


Black and Blue

by skyesu_arts



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Eyeless Jack - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Chernobog - Freeform, College, Dark Magic, Death, Demons, F/M, Fantasy, Gore, Medical, Occult, POV Original Female Character, Transgender, demonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-01-23 06:11:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 111,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21315481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyesu_arts/pseuds/skyesu_arts
Summary: [EYELESS JACK]Sawyer Rafael has had her entire life dealt to her in absolutes: she is disadvantaged in more ways than one. She will be cheated and pushed around by the people above her. She will make it out bruised, but alive. And she will be a doctor.But things start twisting, folding over, and layering in more ways than she could imagine on the first truly interesting night of her 20s; the night somebody makes an attempt on her life, allegedly for his own survival. For once, she isn't handed a dictating statement about her future, but a question."Will you help me?"
Relationships: Eyeless Jack/Original Character
Comments: 32
Kudos: 45





	1. Apparently, I Am One Lucky Son of a Bitch

It would be impossible for me to say where I encountered him first. He could have been anyone; my first roommate, some rude person at a convenience store, that guy on the street who complimented my shirt once. But I do know when I first really met him.

Keep in mind, up until this point I had no connections  _ whatsoever _ to this weird, con-arty world of demons and occultists and whatever else there is he forgot to tell me about. I was a random, ordinary student at a random, ordinary, if not crazy prestigious school. I just happened to have what some might call a stroke of bad luck, others might call a creep-magnet, and even a few others out there might call some sort of great destiny. I say bullshit to all but number one. I not only had a  _ stroke _ of bad luck, but an ongoing chain of the stuff. One thing kept leading to another, and before you know it I’m standing in front of a mirror with two white streaks around my eyes and demon blood on my hands…my parents would’ve had a fit. But more on that later.

This is the point where I’d normally say something like, “meet is a real kind word for what actually happened,” so that’s what I’m going to say:  _ meet is a real kind word for what actually happened. _ You don’t “meet” somebody in the middle of the night during a break-in of your own house, you bash their head in and call the police. You don’t have a nice, polite chat over coffee and chocolate chip muffins, in fact, you’d feel lucky if you didn’t end up learning  _ anything  _ about this person. That’s how my night should have gone.

I was having some sort of dream then—really, a series of dreams that came to mentally assault me every night starting in late July. It doesn’t matter in the slightest what they were about, but let’s say it had to do with school. Holy shit, the stress I was under that year; I never realized how unbearable university could be. But I asked for it, so what was I going to do but lay there. Dreaming. In my house. Alone.

Except I wasn’t alone, and I woke up just in time to notice that.

The weight around and under me shifted. My eyes snapped open. Ordinarily I would’ve had trouble  _ getting _ awake right then, at this hour, but for some reason my body was able to respond in time. And what I woke up to was a figure completely engulfed in shadow, kneeling over me with a rusty scalpel to my side. Without thinking about what it might do beyond my immediate future, I bolted up and swatted the blade out of their hand, cutting my palm open but at least keeping myself alive. I winced and curled my hand into a fist while the person shifted back, thrown off guard.

“Ah. Shit,” they muttered. From a single stream of moonlight coming in between the window slats, I saw that their face was…blue?

_ No, that can’t be right. I can’t even see properly. _

I silently chastised myself for focusing on anything other than the fact that someone—or some _ thing _ —had broken into my room in the dead of night, and reached for the water bottle on my desk. But before I could take it, they lunged forward and grabbed my hand, making a point to cover my mouth as well. I kicked and thrashed underneath their weight, but that didn’t seem to discourage them. I felt something drip onto my neck as they brought their face level to mine. It was like melted wax, or tar. Didn’t burn any less than it, anyways. I flinched, trying to move my arms, but the more I struggled the more frustrated and determined they became.

“Hey.  _ Hey _ , i-it’s okay. None of this is going to hurt, just close your eyes and—”

I took one last chance and bit the hand covering my mouth. Hard. The blue-faced cretin jerked its hand away, almost hissing. I wound up my arm and punched where I assumed (well, hoped) their stomach would be, causing them to fall back onto the foot of the bed.

“I don’t think so,” I breathed, eyes darting around the room as they adjusted to the dark. I quickly remembered the bottle and grabbed it before they could stop me again, stumbling off of the bed to get a better look at them. They followed suit, hands raised and the scalpel back in their possession.

“Little girl, I need to eat—”

_ “Little girl? _ Excuse you, I’m 25!”  _ Though I’m flattered you think so, _ I found myself thinking.

“Well, sorry I can’t properly categorize faces anymore, let alone in the dark! Now why don’t you help a guy out and  _ stay still  _ for me, huh?”

They tried charging at me, but I managed to duck just in time so that they nearly crashed into an empty bookshelf. When they turned around, I swung the water bottle at their face, knocking something to the floor. What that something had been was beyond me, until they looked up and covered both eyes with their hands.

“God! You really had to go and do that, didn’t you?!”

_ They were wearing a mask. _

“What are you doing here,” I said, voice cracking despite my best efforts. “What were you about to do to me, what did you mean when you said—”

“This isn’t anything personal, buddy, so don’t try making it all about you. I’m  _ hungry _ .” Their voice dropped to a low growl and my heart pounded against my ribcage as they charged again, this time pinning me to the floor. The back of my head made an impossibly loud  _ thud _ against the wood, so loud that for a moment I wondered if my skull had been damaged at all. Up close, I could see their real face, and it wasn’t exactly a pretty sight. Their skin was dry and dull, like all the life and color had been sucked out of it. Their lips were stained with a dark liquid I could only assume to be blood— _ or maybe that weird tar that burned my neck. _

I was thoroughly convinced that I’d lost my mind when I realized they had no eyes.

“Now, little girl…”

“Didn’t I  _ just  _ say I’m—?!”

They huffed impatiently and covered my mouth again, digging a hand of claws into the side of my face. “I'm going to ask you to count down from ten with me. When you wake up, you’ll be in a nice, cold bath with nothing to worry about. Or maybe you’ll just be back in bed; I’ll decide later whether you’re even worth that kind of time.”

Lessons from the self-defense class I’d taken all those years ago started coming back to me; instead of this person’s frankly  _ disturbing _ words, I focused on identifying the situation, which is easier said than done when you’re facing real life-or-death circumstances. After a few more seconds, I decided to knee them hard in the groin and threw them off, making a beeline for the spot I was certain their mask had landed. Feeling around in the dark, I found it and picked it up for examination.

_ There’s that same black goo coming from the eye holes. Why would they need that if they don’t even have— _

“Give it  _ back!” _ They tore the thing from my hands and snapped it back on their face, heaving a sigh of relief and exasperation. “You know, I might have kept you alive five seconds ago, but you’re becoming too much trouble.”

“If it’s bothering you that much, you can go somewhere else! What even are you?”

“Rude.”

“I’m giving you a chance to leave, how about that. I won’t scream for help, I won’t call the police, nothing. But I really don’t think you’ll have much luck here.” With all the effort I could muster, my voice kept steady. “So go.”

“You don’t know what’ll happen if I do that,” the not-quite-human said. They almost sounded amused. I knew they were bluffing to some degree, but…

I sighed, reaching for anything that was lying on the desk behind me. My hand found a book. A big, heavy book, probably from a class I’d taken two years ago.

“Fine. We’ll do this your way.”

I picked the thing up and hurled it at their face, certain that I pulled something in my arm. I’d underestimated exactly how hard I needed to throw it, and it ended up hitting them in the stomach, which would still do me good. I heard a short, muffled yell, cut off by the sound of gagging. I had to squint to see it, but it looked like dark, viscous liquid was spilling out from under the mask and dribbling down their chin.

_ Jesus! So they’re hit there and just get sick all over themselves? _

They gasped and coughed before looking back up at me. “…you motherf—”

“Want to change your mind?” I asked scathingly.

“No.”

“Then I’ll just keep—”

They ran forward, grabbed my head, and rammed it into the wall next to me. I swear, they probably pulled a quarter of my hair out just from that. I tried to push them away but my vision was spinning for a good ten seconds before I noticed they’d brandished their knife, or scalpel, or whatever it was again.

“Thank you,” they said under their breath, as if this had been achieved through pure reasoning and negotiation. I wound my arm back to elbow them in the chest, but they grabbed it and dug their nails into the wall, making long claw marks right next to my face.

“How’d you like it if I stole your eyes, too?” It didn’t even sound like they were threatening me; they were asking this to themselves just as much, contemplating before they ended my life. “Haven’t had those in a while. Well, to eat, I mean. I haven’t had  _ my  _ eyes for a very, very…” their face inched closer to mine with every word, and I could smell the buckets of blood on them.

“… _ very  _ long time.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Give it a moment, wouldn’t you?”

I kneed them straight in the nuts. Or at least, where those would be if they had them. They growled and cursed, stumbling back on shaky legs before swiping at me with their weapon. I ducked, holding my head—it still ached like hell—and another scratch mark made its home on the wall.

“You don’t have any rules, do you?! No lines in the sand?” they asked.

“Neither do you! You’re trying to, what,  _ eat  _ me?!”

“How many more things do you think you can throw at me before—”

I didn’t really get the chance to find out what they were going to say. Or rather, I didn’t give myself that chance, because I’d spotted a crappily made tray of ceramic and hit them over the head with it as hard as I could. Surprisingly, the thing didn’t even crack.  _ Jeez. I’d better not find myself on the receiving end of  _ that _ anytime soon. _

“Ah— _ ow!” _ They stayed on the floor ( _ As they should,  _ I thought), only lifting an arm to rub their head. Just when I was beginning to half-hope, half-fear that I’d seriously damaged something in their skull, they groaned and sat up angrily.

“Why do you have a ceramic tray in your room?!”

I took two gigantic breaths, trying to regain my senses. “I made it myself.”

“…you’re a potter?”

“Eh, not really. Picked it up as a hobby, put it back down. It’s more disappointing than you’d expect.”

I could almost see them raise their eyebrows, though it seemed they still couldn’t tell exactly where I was from that blow. “Hm.”

“Over here,” I said, tackling them back to the floor, holding their arms behind their back and under my weight. They coughed up what sounded like blood, or something just as thick.  _ Disgusting. What, do they still have that tar coming out of their mouth? _

“No fair!” they finally sputtered, trying to throw me off many times. By some miracle, I stayed on, making sure their face never left the ground. They turned their head, and by what little light we had I could see that the mask had a thin but noticeable crack running down its center.

“No fair,” they repeated. “I told you, this wasn’t anything personal. I’m trying to  _ survive _ here! What do you have to gain from this?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe another 70 years added to my lifespan?!”

“I wasn’t going to kill you, but you brought this upon yourself! You could’ve listened to me, stayed still, never told a soul, and we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“You mean  _ you  _ wouldn’t be pinned to the floor with a crack in your skull, by some random woman who has no idea what you would’ve done to her!”

“Trust me, I—”

“A little too late for that, buddy,” I hissed next to their ear, suddenly feeling a pang of regret.  _ What am I doing? I can’t just spend the rest of the night like this. The tray should’ve knocked them out, and they’re still awake. But what if the next thing I try splits their head clean open?! _

Against my better judgment, I sat up, still holding their head to the floor, and almost dug my nails into their skin as a warning.

“Don’t. Move.”

They muttered curses and coughed up what must have been more blood onto the floor. I stood up, heaving a sigh, my limbs beginning to shake.

“I’m done with this,” I said after a good moment of silence. “The police on campus should be here to take care of you in less than five minutes.” I turned and made for the door, flinching when their hand feebly grabbed for my ankle.

“Do you really think they’ll believe you?” They asked, their voice hoarse but amused. They let out a shudder of a laugh before tightening their grip. For whatever stupid, curious reason, I didn’t move. For whatever stupid, curious reason, I let my guard down, and without a second to waste they jumped up and pulled me back down with a surprising amount of force. Something scraped the side of my head as I fell, and I shouted in pain.  _ Did this creep dislocate my arm?! _

They crawled on top of me, grabbing both of my hands and folding them against my torso in a cross. “Now, normally I would love to stick around, but it seems I only have two choices: keep fighting you, or look for a meal somewhere else.” They tilted their head and lifted one finger. “But I want you to watch what  _ happens _ to my choices when I do this.” Before I could ask any questions they reached into their pocket, making sure to put extra pressure on me with their other hand to keep me from trying anything, and produced a bottle of pills. I squinted, trying to read the label, but they had covered it with their thumb.

“And this,” they added, reaching again into the pocket on their sweater and pulling out a large serrated knife.

“Ta-da,” they whispered. “Now I’ve got four.”

“What, so you’re going to kill me either way? Why can’t you just leave me alone?!”

“Do you take me for an idiot? I’ve never let somebody off the hook, not  _ once _ since this whole mess started. If you want to get away from me with your life, then you’ll shut up, be compliant, and let me have my dinner.”

“Eat shit, that’d fill you up a lot better!”

As the blade approached my stomach, I began to hyperventilate.

“Please,” I whispered as tearfully as I could, though I didn’t have to try very hard in that moment. “Just go somewhere else. We’ll both be better off, trust me—”

“Sorry,” they said, not sounding very sorry at all. I managed to free one of my arms and grab their wrist as they were about to make the incision.

“I only have one kidney.”

There was no noticeable change in their expression through the mask, but that did cause them to hesitate. “…what.”

“No. I really do. My little brother, he…both of his failed, I had to give one to keep him alive. He was really young, and his body wouldn’t have accepted anyone else’s. If you do this, I’ll die. I mean…” I kept my eyes fixed on their face, letting go of their hand. The scalpel loosened in their grip.

“Who am I kidding. Why would you care? You wanted to kill me anyway.”

I didn’t have the heart to throw in anything else, so I just waited for a response. They were almost frozen in place, and I could hear the gears turning in their brain. After a minute of agonizing silence, they spoke again.

“I’m wasting my time here.”

They said it more as a realization to themselves than as if they were admitting something to me, which I would take. I only needed to get out of this alive. While they were distracted, I took their hand again, letting the scalpel slowly fall into mine. By all the miracles in the world, they didn’t notice; they were too disappointed to, apparently. I tried my luck some more.

“Can you leave? Please? I’m sure someone else around here can…feed you,” I muttered, unable to keep the growing disgust out of my voice. They leaned closer, so much so that I could see their eye sockets narrowing from behind the mask. I could hear their muffled breaths hitting its surface, I could even see the beginning of another black tear about to drip down their face.

“You…are one lucky son of a bitch, do you know that?”

“Well, I don’t really know about the son part—”

“Shut up. You’ve caused so much trouble for me, trouble you can’t even imagine right now. I didn’t come here in the mood for all your resistance and little tricks, anyway, but I’m starting to reach my limit. This could go on forever if neither of us stops now, so…” They sighed and rose to a kneel, still keeping their grip on one of my arms.

“I’m looking elsewhere. For someone less… _ you,  _ I guess,” they said, gesturing to all of me and standing up. I could still feel their simmering anger in the way their hands twitched when they finally let me go, the way their claw-like nails dug into the frame of my window as they jumped out, not giving me so much as a second glance.

The room was still for a moment. I couldn’t even hear the rustling of bushes outside, maybe a trip-up or two, nothing. It was like they just melted into the night, them and that goddamn black hoodie or whatever they’d been wearing. I didn’t pay a lot of attention to it.

_ Holy shit.  _ My thoughts almost sounded as breathless as I was.  _ That…worked. I’m alive. The poor guy might’ve even felt bad for me.  _ I looked to the wall and its various scrapes and scratches with a sigh.

_ Well. What matters is, I’m safe now. In the case that they come back, though… _

I took a quick glance at the scalpel in my hand, arching an eyebrow.

_ What would be a good time to tell them I don’t even have a little brother? _


	2. I Go On a Coffee Date, Except We Both Hate Each Other

By either dumb luck or ridiculous means of internet fame, my research didn’t fail me. The next morning, instead of fixing myself breakfast or even laying in bed a couple minutes extra just to allow myself some compensated rest, I spent half an hour on my computer trying to find out whatever in hell that _ thing _that attacked me last night was.

Well, well, well. For starters, the word _ creepypasta _ told me all I needed to know on the “what” part. Now I needed a “who.” 

And I must say, it was very convenient on his part to just so happen to be eyeless.

_ “…lost your left kidney last night. We don’t know how, though. Sorry, Mitch,” _ I read in a mutter over some cold ravioli. I’d been sitting in the dining hall closest to my house for about three hours now, barely picking at my food. _ Another wasted meal pass, _ I thought to myself, too tired to care all that much. Apparently, the guy who posted this story in the first place took it down a few years ago because he was “ashamed” of it or something. That was really all I could gather, which was a little disappointing but I figured it wasn’t too important. At least, in my case. I took another half-assed stab at my pasta before cramming some into my mouth. I wasn’t about to disappoint my parents with all this no-eating stuff again. _ That shit doesn’t help you pass, me. It doesn’t help you pass. _

I’d washed the scalpel he left behind earlier, almost cutting myself in the process. This guy did _ not _clean his tools as much as he should have, which added up; if you’re already a cannibal on the loose, who cares if one victim’s blood mixes with somebody else’s? I’ll admit, it still unsettled me. Just a little bit.

“Gross…_ gross _…ew. God, what else have you cut open with this?” I whispered, examining all the dirt and god-knows-what-else cemented onto the blade once classes had ended. I remembered with a trace of fear that I’d touched this with my bare hands before. Worse, I’d injured myself with it. Who knew what was in my blood right now?

_ Whatever. I can’t even go to someone about it, I told him I wouldn’t. Besides, they would never believe… _

I stole one last glance at the scalpel, hope flickering in my chest before eventually petering out.

_ No. Don’t be stupid, this isn’t enough. Where would they trace the DNA? My prints, my _ blood’s _ on this thing, for Christ’s sake! _

_ But it’s proof. It’s small, yeah, and definitely going to confuse anybody I show it to. But I have it. I just have to hope he doesn’t… _

I furrowed my eyebrows at nothing and almost chipped a nail picking at a dent in the bathroom wall.

“This can’t be the end. He just lets me off the hook, expects me to either hold this all inside until I die or forget it ever happened?”

I waited one more day, wondering if he was going to come back. I might’ve even _ wanted _ him to come back. At least, part of me knew he would. So I took some extra precautions.

* * *

I regretted this choice of position starting around 11:00; I was being half-smothered by my pillow and felt the skin on my knuckles being rubbed raw underneath my head as I clenched a knife. But my windowsill was starting to creak, and something told me it was _ not _just the wind. It was too late to move now.

_ Exactly how still do people lay when they’re asleep? _

I made sure to keep my eyes slightly open and damn near started holding my breath when he leaned down and waved a hand in front of my face, all slowly. Every little thing about him was getting on my nerves now; how he kept tilting his head, the way he squinted behind his mask, just the way he was _ standing _—it was like somebody was holding a gun to his head. But then he got close. Like, really close. I thanked God and Heaven above that I couldn’t smell his breath. I tried not to shift or squirm as he lifted my head, and after a minute he laughed.

“Aw…so you sleep with a knife under your pillow?” He murmured as if he were talking to a five-year-old. My eyebrows knit in annoyance.

“Yeah, I do,” I said, sitting up and shoving my blanket in his face before pinning him to the ground with my knife at the ready.

“Goddammit!” I heard his muffled voice from beneath, and he struggled to free his head before pushing me off. “Do you ever sleep?!”

“Like a baby,” I growled, holding the knife to his throat once he’d stood up. “What do you want now? Come to take your little doctor’s toy back?”

“So you admit that you stole it.”

“That’s obviously why you’re here, there’d be no point in denying it!”

Through the holes of the mask, I could see his eyelids narrowing in the silence that followed. “Actually, I’m here to make sure the cops won’t have anything more of you to look at once they get here.”

“Cops? What cops? Don’t tell me you’ve been getting sloppy.”

“Playing dumb isn’t going to get you anywhere! The cops _ you _ called on me as soon as I left two nights ago!”

“What are you—I didn’t call the police! How can you be so sure that I did?!”

He looked taken aback. I had no idea why, but that seemed to be what convinced him. “…you didn’t?”

“Of course not. You said it yourself; they would never believe me, even if I did have that little piece of ‘proof,’” I said, turning the knife over in my hand and lowering it just enough so that he still knew I wasn’t letting my guard down. He took a step closer, and I glared at him. _ Too confident. _

“Besides, who knows what kind of pandemonium would break out once people started hearing that the infamous _ Eyeless Jack _is real?”

If I hadn’t known exactly what I said, then I would’ve thought he just took a hit to the chest. He stumbled backwards and bumped his head on a nearby shelf, eyes (or lack thereof) fixed on me the entire time.

“You…why didn’t you say anything that first night, if you already knew who I was?”

“I didn’t know. Not then.”

“So your first instinct as a functioning college student, when you get attacked in your own bedroom by a masked cannibal…is to look them up and see if they’re some viral internet story.”

“No, my first instinct was to beat the shit out of you.”

“You know what I mean! And, what, were you expecting me to come back? You thought I was going to try and take back my scalpel.”

“I wasn’t wrong! Besides, it’s just one little tool, I’m sure you could live without it. Now…” I folded my arms, the tip of my knife pointed towards the window he’d entered through. “If you wouldn’t mind leaving, that’d be great, thanks.”

“If you think I’m just going to _ leave _without making sure—”

He stopped talking when I opened a drawer at my bedside and produced his newly cleaned scalpel. I closed my hand and held it away when he tried taking it, and put up a finger.

“Remember this as the one and only time I will _ ever _give you a weapon. Well, if we even see each other again. And I don’t think either of us want that.”

The room was deadly quiet for a minute, and I held the tool out again. Without wasting a second he snatched it from me and examined it closely.

“…while we’re at it, an apology would be nice,” he said, slipping the scalpel back into some invisible pocket while rocking back and forth on his heels. I could almost hear his unspoken surprise, his silent realization of _ “you cleaned it,” _ and scoffed.

“For what? Defending myself in the face of death?”

“Almost breaking my skull open.”

I laughed and turned around to face a wall. The wall that had at least five huge scratches in its center from the events of two nights ago. “I don’t think I will, if I’m being honest here. What are you going to do, stay here for the rest of the night until I finally cave?”

“Well, maybe,” he muttered. “I…don’t really have anywhere else to go. Not until the morning, at least.” I could almost see him throwing a sharp glare my direction. “And don’t get the wrong idea, spending more than an hour with _ you _is the last thing I’d want.”

After realizing he was being serious, I sighed and closed my eyes.

_ This is what I get for the kidney thing. Maybe shutting up and getting eaten alive wasn’t the worst option. _

“And let me guess, you’ll kill me if I try to kick you out?”

“Now that you mention it, absolutely.”

I stayed still, promptly reciting every curse word I knew in my head until I could write a song from them. This was not what I had planned for tonight, let alone what I had planned for _ him _. I sighed again, but louder.

“Fine. I guess I could work with some sort of truce. As long as you don’t try stealing my kidneys again.”

Jack hesitated. “…you mean, your _ one _kidney.”

_ Shit. _

“You do only have one, right? You didn’t lie to me about your brother, or whatever, just to save your own skin…right?” he went through the questions slowly, as if that would somehow get the truth out faster. I started turning my head to face him but then stopped. I wasn’t in the mood for looking at that goddamn mask anymore.

“Well, what was I supposed to do? You had me by the throat, you were trying to kill me.”

“Oh, I _ really _should have seen this coming. You made up some little sob story to throw me off, get me to leave you alone!”

“Hey, you still could’ve ended me right then and there! Wait until all those cold-blooded killers in the world hear that Eyeless Jack’s got a heart.”

“I left you alone because killing you would’ve taken forever, not because I _ pitied _ you!” He snarled, preparing to stab me, or grab me by the throat, or at least make a threatening gesture. But it seemed he was coming up empty. I raised an eyebrow and drew my knife again, giving him a tired but clear warning look.

“What did we just agree on?”

“Technically, I didn’t agree to anything. I could still tear you apart, don’t worry.” I had the feeling he was wearing a grotesque, twisted smile underneath that mask, and held my knife higher.

“Look, if you want to lose your head, I’m all for it, but _ this _is getting ridiculous. Do you seriously think threatening me even more in my own house is going to get you anywhere?”

“I think it has gotten me somewhere.”

Realizing that it would be a waste trying to reason with him like this, I blinked and shrugged. “Okay.” Making my way to the door, I could hear the sudden jolt of fear that had struck him in his voice.

“Where are you going?”

“To make coffee,” I said nonchalantly. “Looks like I won’t be getting a full night’s sleep anytime soon.”

* * *

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the steam from my cup waft in my direction. Honestly, if he was planning to end me now, I probably would’ve let him after I finished my drink. He stood by the other side of the kitchen table, mask still on, his arms folded and his hands twitching. He seemed at a loss for action. I didn’t blame him. When a full minute of silence had passed, I rolled my eyes and gestured for him to sit down.

“Jeez, if you’re going to be in my house at this hour, don’t just stand around and look at me like a weirdo.”

“I think I’ll do what I want,” he said, his gaze drifting to the wall. At least, that’s where he was facing. I looked down at my coffee with a sigh, wondering when it’d be safe to start drinking.

“Okay, I guess.”

Silence.

I glanced back up, unsure if he could even see me, and nodded at the coffee pot. “You want some of this? It’s kind of like that black tar-goo stuff you’ve got there,” I said, pointing lazily to his mask, “except…you know.” I sipped my drink, realizing how hot it was about a second too late and grimacing. “Shit. Burned my tongue.”

“Yeah, I know what coffee is.” Jack gripped his sleeves as if he was barely keeping himself from strangling me alive. “And good—you deserved that.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” I said, mocking disappointment. “We were just starting to get along!”

“And ‘just starting’ is about as far as I’d like this all to go, thank you very much,” he said icily. “I mean, you stole one of my tools after lying to my face. Can’t really go back from that.”

“That’s it? Stealing a single operating tool is enough for you to form a grudge? You must be fun at parties.”

“You say that like you’ve actually been to one.”

I closed my eyes and nodded solemnly. “That cut me deep, Jack. Real brutal.”

“Shut up.”

Several minutes passed where we just stared at each other, waiting for someone to make the next move. It was unbelievably stupid. Eventually, he sat down with an air of defeat, while I furrowed my eyebrows and lightly drummed on the rim of my mug.

“So…why me?”

He stayed unusually still. “Is this all you’re planning to do? Interrogate me? Besides, what more of a reason do you need, you took my scalpel and called the police on me.”

“No, before all that—and I didn’t call the police. Why’d you come to my house in the first place? You don’t…uh, happen to know who I am, do you?”

“No,” he said, dropping the annoyed air to my surprise. “I don’t get names. I don’t do research. It’s all the same to me; maybe _ rarely _ I’ll get somebody whose organs are…well, to put it simply, fucked. But I wouldn’t be here if I was the type that planned things through.”

I blinked. “Oh.”

“It’s really that shocking, is it.”

_ Giving me a straight answer for once, and right after that little comment about interrogation? Yes. _

“No, I just thought maybe you would at least know my name. I don’t know. It’s weird to think that out of all the houses you could’ve chosen, all the people that live in this part of the city, you just randomly picked mine. No forethought at all.”

He chuckled, then tried to mask it with a cough. “You humans. Always thinking it’ll happen to someone else, and never to you. It’s kind of cute.” He tilted his head with genuine curiosity. “What _ is _your name, anyway?”

I paused as I was about to take another sip of my coffee, eyes never leaving him. _ Wait, why does he want to know? What’s he trying to pull here, should I tell him? Why am I not afraid to tell him? Why am I doing this?! _

“…Sawyer,” I muttered into my mug. “Sawyer Rafael.”

_ You idiot. _

“Don’t know what it is to you, anyway. Unless you’re some kind of spy?” I raised an eyebrow and gave in to a smile. He wasn’t amused.

“As if I’d ever stoop that low.”

“Oh, come on, it’s a noble profession. Get to be property of the government and everything. Such fun.” I took a long drink, almost taunting him with the pause. It wouldn’t have been worth it.

“Besides, with the whole _ eating people _ thing, I wouldn’t have guessed you had a very strong sense of dignity to begin with. I mean…snooping around, gathering information about random people’s lives is a step _ down _ to you?”

Jack stood up and began circling around the table, stopping right behind my seat. “You must be one goddamn brave girl to keep insulting me like this.”

“It’s the most fun I’ve had in days,” I deadpanned.

“What do you think I am?”

I looked over the back of my chair with one arm hanging off and my head tilted. “A big softie with a knife,” I answered, and quite truthfully at that. I could almost see the fumes coming off his head, like a cartoon character.

“How many times do I have to say, that wasn’t because I—honestly, would you prefer if I just finished you off right now? I’d be happy to, if it meant all your little comments came to an end.”

“My dear Jimothy, do you really think I would still be here if I wanted you to kill me?” I got up and stretched my arms, eyeing the pantry over Jack’s head. He picked at the sleeves of his sweater as if trying to stay sane.

“Don’t call me _ Jimothy _. It’s a gross name, it sounds even grosser coming from you.”

“Noted.” _ Only a sleeve of crackers and some oatmeal. Do I need another internship? _ I closed the cabinet with a dissatisfied huff and turned back to him, only standing a few feet away. I tilted my head as I realized something.

“You haven’t taken off your mask yet.”

“You really aren’t afraid of me,” he said, either changing the subject on purpose or completely ignoring my remark. I nodded as if to say, _ and…? _

“Why?”

I shrugged. “Well, if I told you, you might actually be able to do your job right. Scaring people before mauling them to death _ is _ your job, right?”

“Cut the scaring part, and maybe you’re halfway there.” He scratched at the top half of his mask, and didn’t seem to care that it now had four visible marks down its side thanks to the claws…

I couldn’t help my eyes widening the tiniest bit when I remembered. _ Right. He’s got those. _

He let out a tiny, ironic laugh. “Oh, wow. This is it. I’ve lost it. I-I’m _ explaining _ myself to a 24-year-old college girl, who isn’t the least bit scared of me, it’s almost 2:00 and I’ll have to go back to the realm and explain myself again and somehow leave out the fact that one of my kills got away and he might send me back again—”

“I’m 25.”

Interrupting his little spiral might have been a mistake on my part. Or maybe a stroke of luck; he froze up for a good second, his hands starting to twitch again, and just when I thought he might explode or god forbid _ melt _ into a puddle of that disgusting tar, he closed his eyelids and took a deep breath.

“Okay. Okay, I’m done with this.”

For the first time, I felt genuinely happy. “You’re leaving?”

“You’re damn—fucking—_ right _ I’m leaving!” He punctuated each word with another sharp gesture; first pulling over his hood, then plucking a stray thread off of it, then jerkily rolling up one sleeve to reveal a whole collection of medical tools strapped to his right arm. He retrieved the scalpel from his pocket and shoved it into one of the kit’s many elastic loops, saluting me with a glare as he walked past towards the back door.

“How anybody can stand you, I’ll never know, and with any luck I won’t find out! Whatever, this is it, I’m going, _ da svedanya, _ you’re probably going to die anyway.”

I considered telling him that _ da svedanya _ more or less meant “until we meet again,” and therefore wasn’t a permanent goodbye, but decided I’d tortured him enough tonight. There really wasn’t much I could say as I watched him storm off, not stopping until he was about a foot outside the door. He looked back this time, though.

“…I hope I never see you again.”

_ “ I _ think you already love me,” I replied, despite myself. Even in the half-dark, I saw little portions of his face scrunch up underneath his mask in disgust.

“You could say that. Bye.”


	3. Being Alone Is So Much Harder When You're Actually Trying

I was leaning to one side of the bench, as usual, with a book open in one hand while I tried getting comfortable. As usual. My weather app, which had only steered me wrong about 10 times since I’d downloaded it, claimed that it would be a fairly chilly day, which I was okay with. It was time for my fall clothes to shine. And by “fall clothes,” I meant one hoodie I liked particularly better than the others. A bunch of people, most of them couples, were rushing this time of day, cutting across the grass of the park as they made their daily commutes. Fine by me. At least I was being left alone.

Well, I  _ was  _ for about thirty minutes. Then somebody tapped me on the shoulder, a lot harder than one would ever need to.

_ “Hey.” _

I looked up from my book to see a lanky man dressed in all white, with fiery hair in a messy undercut and stubble growing wild on his chin. His face was already about three feet deep into my personal bubble, and he was pissed.

“Can I help you…?” I asked, shifting back towards the other side of the bench. He narrowed his eyes and grabbed one of my arms faster than I could blink, starting to drag me away towards one of the forest paths. I snapped my book shut and attempted to knock him over the head with it, but he caught my other wrist as well and moved both of my hands to one of his so he could properly  _ shush  _ me.

“How many times do I have to say, meet me at the park, but  _ don’t sit down?!” _ He began loudly, as if he were putting on a show. The anger on his face didn’t fade, but he clearly hadn’t mistaken me for someone else. And all  _ this  _ clearly wasn’t about errors in rendezvous communication. I glared at him right back.

“You made me close my book! Now how am I gonna remember where I left—”

“You do this every time. Don’t tell me I have to write it on your arm next!”

I looked around the square for help, but everyone had turned away with an expression of schadenfreude. Apparently, nobody wanted to get involved with what they could only assume was some couple’s petty argument.

He kept dragging me into the forest, then down some remote pathway that looked relatively fake. A single bench, almost identical to the one that I’d been sitting on before, rested ten feet from where he decided to let go of one of my hands. I tried to break the other free, but he just held on tighter and looked at me through tired, sunken eyes as if this were the last thing he wanted to do today. Something about the angle of his nose, the eyelids that stretched just a little too wide, and his lean figure lit a spark in my brain. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Okay, listen up here, because I’m getting  _ really  _ tired of explaining these things—”

“Do I know you? You seem familiar, I just can’t remember where I could’ve met you before…”

“Of course you know me.”

“Then why did you drag me to this secluded part of the woods?! Couldn’t you have, oh, I don’t know,  _ said  _ who you are back there and asked me if I had a couple of minutes to spare?”

“Nah. Crowded areas like that don’t take kindly to a young lady screaming for help.”

I flinched away from him at those words, though he still had an iron grip on my hand.  _ Is this dude seriously  _ threatening  _ me?! _

“W-why would I scream, if you don’t mind telling me…?”

He sighed, though I could tell he was satisfied with himself for making me afraid. He waved a hand over his face, and suddenly it changed. Not completely, but his hair’s redness washed out to a faded brown color, his skin was now chipped and dark gray, and his eyes…

“Oh. You,” I said, not able to help feeling disappointed. Jack, for whatever reason, still took that as a win. He cracked a wry smile, the tar that usually dripped from his sockets having been wiped away.  _ He does clean up nicely, for an undead hybrid cannibal. _

“What’s wrong? Not so smug now, are you?”

“Just cut the shit and tell me why you’re here. Couldn’t you have just ignored me? I was kind of busy, you probably were too, so…” My gaze dropped to the ground, and I kicked a leaf while shoving a hand into my sweater pocket. “And can you  _ please  _ let go?” I made one final attempt to rip my other arm away from him, to which he finally gave in. He scoffed and held both hands up in mock defeat.  _ Were his teeth always that pointy? _

“Fine. That would be fair, but first of all…” he held up one finger in front of my face. “…I still haven’t gotten back at you for either of those two nights. You know, when you straight-up lied to me and hit me on the head with a ceramic tray?”

“I remember what happened, Jack, I’m the one who did it.”

“Yeah! You are! And second, I hoped to never see you again—”

“I remember that, too.”

“—but now I know that it won’t be so easy just…avoiding you. Every time you come into my line of sight, even if I just  _ think  _ about you, I’m reminded that I let someone go. I’ve never once in my life met anybody who’s caused as much trouble as you.”

I frowned. “Oh, well, that can’t be true. You’ve never met anyone else who tried to get away?”

“Of course people struggle, but you actually managed to…” he cussed under his breath and sighed. “You beat me. Technically. Under real weird circumstances, might I add, and besides, who sleeps with a knife under their pillow?!”

“Plenty of diligent, self-serving Americans.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that? Ugh, whatever. I didn’t take you here to talk about this! I’m here to give you a choice. A warning.” He reached into his pocket and drew a strange, jagged knife one might use for some sort of ritual. The blade was carved from what looked to be obsidian, and I took a step back as he held it to my chin.

“I’ve had my fill of moving around, being forced out of home, always worrying about something on my tail. Now it’s your turn. I’m not planning on going anywhere, so I’ll give you three days to leave this place for good. Either that, or…” Another one of those smiles I already hated grew on his face, and a single black tear became visible on the edge of his socket when he squinted. “Well, I could always trap you somewhere. No food, no water, no sunlight for days until your body finally caves in on itself. Your insides might not taste as nice as they would have if you'd just  _ stayed still _ that first night, but beggars can’t be choosers, now can they. So what’ll it be?”

After a moment, I gently pushed the tip of the knife away from my face and took another few steps back. “I didn’t call the police on you when you broke in,” I tried to reason. He laughed, almost like a little kid, and a shiver travelled down my spine.

“This isn’t about the police anymore, you blue-belt little  _ shit.  _ Didn’t I just say that I can’t even look at you without feeling like a screw up?! If upper management finds out about  _ any  _ of this, I’m done for. And you won’t be getting out alive, either.”

_ Upper management?! _

“…this is kind of tacky, isn’t it? Threatening people with their lives in the middle of a park. What, do you think I won’t cry out for help if you try killing me again?” I folded my arms in an attempt to look indifferent, but couldn’t get rid of the shakiness of my voice. Somehow, now that he’d taken this whole mess outside of my house, I was even more unsure of what to do. If he tried anything now, I wouldn’t have much to fend him off with. I was royally fucked.

“And now why would you do that? I thought you could defend yourself,” he said with an innocent tilt of the head. I clenched my jaw, trying to plan an escape route in my head while also keeping him distracted.

“Yeah, I can. But when push comes to shove, you know? Besides, why would  _ you  _ want to attack me here, of all places? You could get caught, I could file a report against you, since I’d know you won’t be bothering me about it anymore.”

“You’re a smart one, aren’t you? In that case, why don’t you take my advice and get out of here while you still can.”

At this point, he was practically looming over me, even though we were the same height last time I checked.  _ Did that disguise make him taller…? _

“ _ Now _ .” He grabbed the collar of my sweater, almost ripping through it with his nails. I was starting to fear that one of his black tears would drip down from his face and burn me again, he was so close. I was at a loss for action; the most I could do, short of physical assault, was wait until he decided to let me go. Or maybe just take my sweater off and run— _ but he could grab my arm if I tried. _ The only thing I knew in that moment was that he was beyond reasoning.

Eventually, he sighed and loosened his grip. “Jesus. Either you’re frozen in fear, or just completely out of it.”

“Frozen in fear, thank you very much,” I said, kicking him in the shin and stepping back once he let go. “What’s your problem, anyway? Is it really that hard to just avoid me?! I’m probably outside for a total of 15 minutes a day, at most!”

“My  _ problem  _ is that someone’s going to find out about this.”

“Who?! Who cares that you let someone go, who is ‘upper management,’ or whatever you said?”

“Just drop it, won’t you?!”

“Not until you do.”

He narrowed his eyelids in thought, and slowly but surely tucked his knife back into a pocket. It disappeared without a trace, not even a vague outline showing through the fabric. It was almost like he’d put it through a tiny portal somewhere, or maybe it disintegrated. His jaw moved the tiniest bit from side to side as he seemed to consider something. Something stupid, or drastic.

“How good of a liar are you?”

For some reason, that made me practically seethe. “If you want me to do you a favor, it is  _ way  _ too late for that. Be a little less murderous next time.”

“Will you listen?! This involves you too, it’s not like either of us walks away and you go back to having a normal life. If you let even the tiniest detail slip to  _ anyone,  _ he’s going to notice.”

“Who is  _ he?!” _

Jack seemed to grapple with the consequences of telling me, and eventually settled with the “continue to be an asshat” path.

“Can’t say. But I can tell you that once he does notice, it’s over. No questions asked, he just ends it all. He ends you, ends me, maybe even a few other people just because he feels like it.” He started coming over all twitchy, and the nervous kind, too. That somehow made me feel even worse.  _ Ugh, can’t he just go back to being mad? _

“Look, I know I haven’t given you any reason to trust me. At all. But can you be compliant this one time?” A hot second passed and he sighed, curling his hands into fists like this was the most humiliated he’d ever been.

“Please?”

_ This is a stupid game he’s playing. _

I folded my arms and hoped it would come off as me being completely done with him, rather than me making sure he didn’t try to touch me again. There was already a cluster of wrinkles on both my sleeves from his “you're not going anywhere” bullshit.

“Okay. I’ll say this once; if I could help you, I would. If I feared for my life because of  _ anything _ other than you, I might go along with all this. But I just don’t buy it.” I began walking towards the nearest bench, remembering I had my book in hand and could sit here to continue reading.

“So if you want to keep me captive here until I change my mind, we’re going to be here a while. Feel free to make another choice,” I said as I took a seat.

“Oh, that bench isn’t real.”

Before I could process his words, I had fallen straight through and landed on the ground.

“What the—?!”

“And neither is that tree, this path, that lamp…”

As Jack kept talking, various things around me seemed to phase out of existence. The very path we’d been standing on glitched away and left nothing but dirt and leaves. This area itself had been an illusion. We were really just in the middle of the forest. He’d led me here while it was disguised as some nice little detour, fully intending to…

I stood up, brushed myself off, and narrowed my eyes. “Of all the things I thought Eyeless Jack to be capable of, reality-defying, matrix-level illusion wasn’t one of them. Who are you working with?”

“That, Sawyer Rafael, is none of your business. Besides, I’m not really the type to work with other people.”

“Yeah, I can see  _ that,”  _ I scoffed, grazing a nearby tree with my hand to make sure it wasn’t just a hologram. “You’ve been having a real hard time working with me so far.”

“Hey, I’m trying here! All you have to do is when some supernatural force comes knocking, act like you have no idea who I am and block any thoughts of me out of your mind before they see them. It’s simple, really!”

“How am I supposed to just  _ not think  _ about something? That’s literally the hardest thing to do! Here, for the next five minutes, don’t think about turtles choking on plastic water bottles.” Before he could even open his mouth to respond, I held out a hand as if to prove my point. “See, not so easy, is it? Now leave me alone. If you die, you die, and that’s not my problem.”

I started on my way, already squinting at the trees ahead to see which  _ real  _ path would take me back to the park’s center. He rushed forward and grabbed my arm again.

“Which part of ‘you’ll die too’ don’t you understand?!”

“I understand perfectly. I just think—no, I  _ know  _ you’re lying! You said yourself that you weren’t thinking when you came to my house. You didn’t plan this out, you were never ‘assigned’ to me or anything, why should I believe that some petty eldritch force wants me dead because you failed?!”

“I didn’t fail,” he said, his voice a quiet but dangerous growl. His grip on my arm tightened. “Say that again. I dare you.”

“You couldn’t beat me in my own house, so you decided to take things out here and get even. And you still haven’t worked up the guts to hurt me. You  _ failed. _ ” I was surprised myself at how harsh the words came out, but it served him right. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to sock me in the face right now, but kept his anger down and his head up.

“If you won’t even try to come to a compromise with me, I guess I’ll just go back to plan B,” he said, for once without any smugness or malice that I could detect. I furrowed by eyebrows, trying to figure out what in hell he could have been referring to.

“What are—”

He pulled a pair of steel handcuffs out of nowhere and, before I could react in any helpful way, had me locked onto the armrest of another bench that unfortunately didn’t seem to be fake. I reached out to grab him by the hood as he smiled and began walking away, but I could only go so far from my tether.

“What did— _ hey _ —get back—no!  _ Ugh. _ ” All my futile attempts to stop him left me with nothing to do but flop back onto the bench and wait this all out. What “this all” could ever be was beyond me. The path had reappeared without me noticing, and I swallowed my pride as a couple of strangers walked past me, looking concerned, to say the least.

“Uh, hey,” I said with a bashful smile. “My friend cuffed me here as a prank, and now I can’t seem to get out—um, could either one of you…?”

Before I could continue with my lame explanation, the woman turned to me for a moment, smiled, and her face split open like a blooming flower—except a blooming flower looks a lot more pleasant than whatever the hell was happening to her. I cupped a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming, and the man walking next to her tilted his head as his eyes went blood red. Iris, whites, everything.

_ Where the everliving  _ fuck  _ did he take me?! _

Just as I was about to say something (though I have no idea what I could have even said to that), both strangers’ faces went back to normal and they walked away, snickering to themselves and each other. One of them mimicked a horrified scream and they laughed even harder, disappearing into the thin shadows of the trees. The path was starting to glitch again, and I balled my hands into fists.

“You’re an asshole, Jack!” I yelled into the air, beyond caring if anybody could hear. “You hear me?!  _ Asshole!” _

“Well, then I’m glad we have at least one thing in common.”

I jumped and turned around to see him leaning over me, elbows on the bench’s back. He wore an irritating grin as he watched me struggle with my bonds—or, really,  _ bond. _

“Uncuff me. And let me go home. Right. Now,” I said through my teeth, letting silence pierce the space between each word. He frowned, grabbed a lock of my hair, and tugged upwards.

_ “Ow!” _

“You’re not going to cause anymore  _ trouble _ for me, are you?”

“Since when have I—no! I won’t! I promise. Jesus…” I muttered when he finally let go, rubbing my head and throwing my deadliest of glares in his direction. He pulled a bobby pin out of thin air and unlocked the handcuffs, gesturing to the  _ very real  _ main path that led out of the woods with a flourish as if he were a magician. “There. You’re free. For now,” he added under his breath, clearly under the impression that I wouldn’t hear him. I held the cuffed wrist close to my chest as I stormed away, not looking back.

“…hey! Aren’t you forgetting your book?” Jack called from the bench as I turned to the park square. I scowled.

“Keep it.”

“Hm, oh well. I guess you’ll just have to come back for it later.”

_ That man is insane if he thinks I’m going anywhere near this place again. _


	4. Classes Are a Cold War Zone

I didn’t see him again for another month.

I considered it a blessing at the time, of course, but with each day that went by I soon found myself wallowing in dread until classes finally started that year. I still had too much spinning around in my head; Jack’s “offer,” if you could even call it that, my lost book, that weird knife, the couple that passed me and immediately turned their faces inside out, where on Earth he had gotten those handcuffs…

_ Actually, I don’t think I want an answer to that. _

October was inching close. By now, I’d gotten used to the odd scheduling around here, and wasn’t going to make an idiot of myself showing up at a lab one month early because I was worried that “no one told me about it.” Those kinds of shenanigans were for first-year me. But I was starting a new class soon, one that I’d signed up for about a month late. I had to take some extra courses that my family didn’t consider remedial, but that I’d struggled with a couple years prior and thought it only made sense to retake. Besides, I needed as much of a passing grade as I could get in every course possible.

October 1st. I entered the room and immediately spied an empty seat smack in the middle. A Goldilocks zone. Choosing that would, by default, make me one of the least significant people in this hall. I sat down, took out a notebook and one dull pencil. A couple of early risers like myself passed by, and one of them looked at me with a sense of immediate contempt. Competitiveness, even. Maybe it was because I’d been the first to sit down, and they had strived for that title. I didn’t get any clarification until the professor walked in about two minutes late. A record. He turned around at his desk and started counting the people in the room while the student who’d glared at me spoke in an attempted whisper to their friends.

“See the one in the bomber jacket? Yeah, just watch. First thing she says is about her being bilingual, or something.”

To their credit, that small group adhered very closely to the rule of “look, but don’t make it obvious.” They all took their sweet time, giving me the once-over like I was up for hire. I was trapped in some weird, reversed ripoff of _ Legally Blonde _, already being sized up by a bunch of first-years. That’s what they looked like, anyway. I stole a surreptitious glance at my messenger bag in case it had anything to do with this kid’s snap judgement.

Two pins. Both flags. Both in clear sight of whoever should walk past.

_ Fine. I’ll take this one, God. _

As more people awkwardly filed into the room, the professor clapped once to get our attention and motioned for everyone to sit down. Half of them were still clumped together at the doorway. He didn’t seem to care.

“Alright, ladies and gents, let’s make this go as quickly as possible. I understand some of you had to move around your schedule to be here, and some of you who _ should _ be here…well, they probably don’t know. Keep the chatter to a minimum. If I don’t call your name, either see me after class or walk out that door the second I’m done. If I butcher your name, _ please correct me. _Here we go.” He tapped a small stack of paper on his desk and flashed a relatively fake smile.

“Name’s Professor Edds, by the way. Should be easy enough to remember…Abraham, Gerard?”

“Here,” a voice from behind me called.

“Antoni, Bella?”

“Here.”

His little role call continued as usual. I almost caught myself rolling my eyes; _ Does he think we’re in middle school? _ I heard lots of whispers and mutters in my general area, but mostly goofing off and loud talk all around the room. It was relieving, in a way. I let myself doze off a bit. It wouldn’t matter if I fell asleep either way, because I was snapped out of it soon enough.

“Rafael, Sa…S—Samuel?” Edds cocked his head and squinted like he wasn’t reading the paper right. My heart sank as I realized what was happening. _ Goddammit. Somebody must’ve crossed it out or something, now I’ll have to say my name out loud and everyone here is going to know… _

“Uh, sir? That’s me. It’s Sawyer.”

Suddenly, a good few people who had failed in listening to the professor’s instructions fell dead quiet. This is what I’d feared; it’s what I’d expected.

_ And of course I haven’t spoken a word today. I sound like a frog who’s easing off cigarettes for the first time in 20 years. _

The poor guy held his paper up to the light as if that would make the letters clearer, when he obviously had no reason to look into it even more. He muttered, almost to himself, “Ah, the tiny letters right there…gonna have to make those bigger.” He looked back at me with his pen raised. “Sorry ‘bout that. What was it, Samantha?”

It felt like somebody was blowing hot air on the back of my neck, and I wanted to reach up and tie my hair back just to be sure there was nothing there. Would’ve been harder to do since the event I liked to call _ the chop _, but it wasn’t impossible. Still, I just sat there and took it.

_ Like a man, _I thought spitefully.

“Nope. It’s Sawyer,” I said in a much tinier voice than I really needed to. People noticed. The room fell even quieter, if that’s possible. I knew in about five minutes everyone would forget all about this, but that didn’t stop me from feeling like I was going to explode. Professor I-already-forgot-his-name raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“You sure you couldn’t have picked _ Samantha?” _

“No, sir. My name’s Sawyer. It says so on the paper, doesn’t it?”

He really could have been making a joke. A nice, innocent, friendly joke. But I wasn’t in the mood for taking things like that today, so I shut it down. His smile faded eventually, and he clicked his pen three times before scrawling something on the side of the sheet.

“…alrighty, then. Reed, Brennan?”

“Here.”

The class continued like I predicted it would: he called everybody’s name, made a little face with every absence he counted, and got on with introducing the course. And I was right—everyone did seem to forget the tiny scene earlier with attendance. But I didn’t. I couldn’t help but let it haunt me for the rest of the day, which is _ not _my usual style, let me tell you that.

I zoned back in around 1:00 when some other professor, old Johnson, was in the middle of droning on about how rigorous Biochemistry was going to be this year, and I suddenly wished I had chosen a better time to start paying attention. It’s always harder to stop listening when you actually want to do it, and aren’t just staring off into space with your mind already on something else. I was starting to fear that somebody would snap in front of my face if I looked too disinterested, so I sat up and folded my hands in the most comforting way I could think of, basically making a cradle for my face. Those snobby noblemen in fiction who fold their hands like that are onto something, I can safely say.

When I walked out of the building the first thing I was met with was a virtual heart attack, because I thought I saw a flash of bright red hair somewhere in the crowd. I kept my distance for a few seconds, only to realize it was just some girl a year my senior who’d taken the class with me. I heaved a sigh of relief and kept walking.

“Hey, hey!”

_ And just as soon as it stopped… _

I turned around, my heart skipping a few beats, to see some brawny guy jogging to keep up with me. Where I could have seen him before was beyond me, but I knew he at least went to this college. He came to a stop at my side and took a couple huge breaths before looking down at me.

“Uh. Hi. Sawyer, right?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah…?”

“I-I just wanted to tell you, you _ look _ like a real woman.”

_ Excuse me? _

“What’s it to you?” I asked, a lot more coldly than I’d intended to. He almost flinched away, but I didn’t feel guilty. Somebody might as well have taught him how to talk to people at this age. As fast as I’d said it, he switched from taken aback to annoyed.

“Hey, what do you mean by that? I’m trying to be _ nice _to you, I thought maybe you felt weird about it or something!”

“Well, I feel fine, so thanks, but no thanks.”

“So it’s always the same with you people, is it? It doesn’t matter if somebody’s decent to you or not, you’re still going to be rude.”

_ You people? _ Ooh, that did _ not _ feel good. _ Which part of me is he talking about? _

“I’ll say it’s just the same with me. Have a good day.”

Thank god, he didn’t try to follow me back to my house. I could’ve handled it if he did, obviously, but it was a relief to know I wouldn’t have to. Not today.

_ Christ, this is supposed to be the place where nobody gives a shit about anyone else! I’m not even that interesting. I should be invisible, and so should whatever’s on my… _

I stifled a gasp. “My bag,” I said under my breath.

I’d forgotten it back at the building.

* * *

“Okay. Okay, o-_ kay. _ That could’ve gone a lot better,” I muttered to myself, digging around for my keys at the front door. My fingers landed on the tiny ring, and I made a mental note to always keep them in a pocket from now on. The door opened with a loud creak and plenty of dust falling to the floor, swirling around in the air and making me cough. The house looked…gloomier than usual. Maybe it was because I’d arrived at the cracking hour of 6:00 PM, but then again, some days I came back even later into the night and didn’t see a difference.

I closed the door behind me, not bothering to switch on any lights and trudged upstairs with my bag still in tow. A giant yawn escaped me, and I only then realized how tired I’d gotten throughout the day. Walking into my bedroom again was a jarring experience; the scratches on my wall and windowsill were still there, and still lined with blood and black goop that wouldn’t come off no matter how hard I scrubbed. Hell, I’d even found some on my bedpost a couple days later. I frowned as I came across them again, trying not to think about how most of them got there, and set everything down on the floor. Reaching into my bag for the book I’d been reading about a month ago, I was thrown into a split-second panic when I couldn’t find it.

_ Oh. Right. _ I sighed and flopped down onto my bed. _ Probably still in the woods. _

My phone started buzzing relentlessly, and my gaze snapped to its battery level the moment I opened it. 5%. On the bright side, I had gotten a text from Morgan.

_ “Sawyeeeerrr we haven’t hung out in so long, classes are easing up on me tomorrow, want me to come over??” _

I chuckled to myself and opened the keyboard to reply. Strangely enough, getting a visitor sometime this week (that I actually liked) was just what I needed.

_ “Sure what time are u free” _

Sent.

_ “Literally all day up until 4 pm I think!!” _

_ “Oh sweet I have all evening classes starting at 6. Might wake up suuuuper late tho” _

_ “Haha better not leave me waiting kid” _

I half-buried my face in the covers, ready to fall into a coma at any second.

_ “Okay, MOM.” _

Morgan decided to end the conversation with one of the classic laughing emoji, and I was already feeling better about tomorrow. I wondered to myself how we always managed to miss each other on campus for the last two years; maybe it had to do with our classes being in completely different buildings, but you’d think we would at least see each other passing by _ once. _

* * *

I realized that my phone had died minutes too late. One of my eyes refused to open, falling closed when I tried actively holding the lids apart. Half of my face felt like it’d been pounded soft, when really I had just slept on it oddly. I wiped some spit off my chin as warm daylight burned past my eyelids from the window, turning my blocked vision red. _ Should’ve put an alarm clock here, or something. _

I shuffled out of my room and down the stairs, not even bothering to throw something on to protect myself from the cold. I squinted at the time on the microwave as I passed by. 2:04. I slept through the entire morning. I sighed and glanced around the kitchen. Everything still had that same dreary aura as last night; it wasn’t even how the room looked. I just had this horrible gut feeling about it, but then again, I get that from a lot of things. The pot of coffee from almost two months ago still sat on the counter, gathering dust. An electric current seemed to shoot up my arm as I remembered the last time I used it with a strange, painful emotion. Melancholy, regret. Something I wasn’t about to deal with ten minutes after waking up.

_ We’re moving past all that now. Nothing’s going to happen, he’s probably forgotten about you. You can live your life in peace. _

I sighed again, furrowing my eyebrows as I poured myself a cup of pure black coffee. “As much peace as you can get with university and being me, I suppose.”

Half an hour passed without movement. It was just me, the room, my coffee, and whatever sad air I was breathing. I felt like I could melt into the floor, become one with the wood and nothing would change. I’d simply be a mechanical version of what I once was, an idle animation of a tired woman drinking her coffee in the afternoon.

_ Knock, knock, knock. _

My spine snapped straight up at the sudden noise. I shook myself out of that tiny daze and carefully set the cup down to answer the door. _ Morgan. _

“Glad you decided to come over now instead of an hour ago,” I muttered more or less to myself. It took a bit of…physical negotiation for the door to finally open, and I was met with quite a sight for sore eyes. Morgan had on her classic purple track jacket along with a pair of vibrant, almost abstract earrings whose origin I couldn’t begin to place. Her eyes gleamed behind the round-framed glasses she wore _ strictly _on a good day as she pulled me into a hug.

“Aw, how’s my baby doing in the big, wide world?” She said in a mushy voice that nearly made me gag. I hugged her back, a smile coming on that I had no intention of stopping.

“I’m failing every class and got evicted from my house yesterday. We’re both technically breaking in right now.”

“Oh, so good?”

I snickered. “Are you proud of me yet?”

She pulled back and held me by the shoulders to get a good look at the new-and-improved Sawyer, frowning when her eyes started to wander up towards my hair. “Oh, no, honey, what did you _ do _ to yourself? You look like Filipina Dora the Explorer!”

I laughed for real this time. “Shut up. I woke up, like, ten minutes ago, cut me some slack—!” I let out a tiny shriek as she began trying to fix it for me, holding up my bangs with one hand as the other reached into her bag for a comb. “Assault!” I whisper-yelled, dodging her attempts to make me look presentable while she laughed and held my arms down.

“Don’t fight me, young lady, you _ need _this!”

“Give me the right to my bedhead or give me death! You’ll never take me alive—ugh.” I flopped down on the couch in defeat as Morgan laughed and tamed my hair with her comb.

“See, it isn’t so bad. You looked so beautiful with long hair, Soy, why’d you change it?”

“Not having to tie it up every time we do a lab in class was a nice change,” I said dryly. Morgan knew I didn’t mind all her little comments, but I was getting tired of explaining myself to every old friend and family member I came across now. They always had something to say about it, and by “something,” I mean complaints. “I don’t know, it was getting too much. I don’t have the time for that kind of maintenance.”

She scoffed, tucking a stray lock behind my ear and stepping back to view my after-picture. “You’re one to talk. I have _ this _ mane to take care of every day, and you don’t see me complaining.” She gestured with a smirk to her afro, which had been tidied up beyond human capacity. _ How long does it take her to do that? _I gave in to a tiny smile.

“I pick my battles, you pick yours. Let me live, for Christ’s sake!” I stood up and stretched my arms, while she made herself comfortable in my spot. “You want anything to eat? I think I have some leftover teriyaki chicken from last night, snuck it out of the west dining hall.”

“I had lunch an hour ago,” she replied, scrolling through something on her phone before turning it off and throwing me a knowing look. “Of course I want it.”

“Then get up and come to the kitchen!”

I examined the inside of the plastic tupperware I’d used to store the chicken for anything out of the ordinary before splitting our food onto two plates. I gave Morgan a wordless thumbs-up when asked if she could look for a drink in my refrigerator, and sat down in the same spot I had claimed this morning. She walked back over, greeted by our feast, and held a can of off-brand soda away from her face as she cracked it open. To her surprise and eventual disappointment, nothing close to a fizzy mess ensued. I bit the inside of my cheek.

“Yeah, those are all flat. I’ll drink it, if you want—”

“It’s okay. Sometimes all the bubbles make it taste…I don’t know, sourer?”

I pretended to understand what she was talking about as we took turns microwaving our respective plates. There was too much to catch up on for just a couple hours’ worth of conversation. We tried anyway. After a good few minutes of stories and laughs over this questionable lunch, Morgan gasped and grabbed my shoulder.

“D’you want Darla and Sean to come over soon? It’ll be like the whole gang’s back together!”

“Uh…not yet. You know, work, labs, my schedule’s been packed. Had time off today, so I just slept until you came over.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait, so you weren’t kidding? _ This _is your first meal of the day? Some shining example you are, what are your future clients going to say?”

“‘Thanks, Doc, for not rattling off every detail of your personal life to us! Here’s a hundred dollars.’”

She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “You’ve got to take care of yourself. Y’know, get out and do something! Something besides working towards your grand future,” she said with a few exaggerated gestures, an imitation of the clouds of heaven parting. I raised an eyebrow.

“Eh, sorry, I don’t think I’ve done much of anything. At all. For the past two years.”

Morgan scoffed. “There’s got to be _ something. _Save any lives yet? Make friends with some other nerds, have any blossoming romances?”

Ironic as that last one was probably meant to be, for some reason my mind flew to…well, you know who. I shook my head to rid myself of the idea. _ Ugh. Some ‘romance’ _ that _ would be. _

“Nope. Not right now. I don’t even know if I’ve thought about that kind of stuff yet,” I muttered into my palm, eyebrows raised in surprise. Morgan tilted her head.

“Damn. That’d be fun, though, we could go on a double date with Leigh.” She started drinking her soda, and I held back a snicker at the look of disappointment on her face when she remembered it was flat. “…you've met them, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Blond, brought a bunch of art supplies and shit to that one hangout?”

“That’s the one,” she said, almost dreamily. I leaned to her side and let a hand crawl up her neck, spider-like.

“You’re _ so _ in love, you know that?” I teased. She yelped, swatted me away, and punched me in the arm. Hard. I laughed and rubbed the spot. “Hey! You dick, that’s gonna leave a bruise…”

“That’s what you get for almost making me spill my soda! Just put something on it, maybe a special cream you can only find on the internet, you’ll live.” She raised an eyebrow and stood up from the chair, having finished her food. “Or, better yet, tell people you hooked up with someone freaky. No questions asked.”

_ “Questions _ are not what I’m worried about here,” I said, poking her side and taking my phone out to check the time. “Anyway, we should have a couple more hours before—oh, no, didn’t you say something about 4:00?”

Morgan frowned. “Yeah, why?”

“It’s 3:45.”

The horror began to set in.

“Shit, shit, _ shit! _ I probably should have left five minutes ago, all my books are in my room!” She winced and snatched her bag up from the ground, waving frantically as she made for the door. “Sorry, I’ll make sure to come over sometime this weekend! Bye, Sawyer—”

“Dude, it’s no problem, _ run!” _

“Okay…!” She called back over her shoulder, already about to cross the street, her backpack still not fully zipped. I sighed and combed my hair back with my fingers. She seemed to be doing fine without me, which was sort of a good thing, as weird as it sounds. Thinking about the time again, I realized I might have to get ready for my own classes soon. But before I could start the mighty trek upstairs to get my books, I heard a soft tapping at the window in the living room and froze.

_ It’s not… _

I heard a mutter of, _ “Did she leave…?” _ from outside, and my heart momentarily stopped.

_ No. It can’t be—it’s been a month! _

“Jack?” My voice didn’t carry far, but apparently it had been enough. There was a muffled sigh and a few scraping noises, and a shiver travelled up my spine. I felt like my house was infested with several small rodents, maybe even a raccoon. There wouldn’t be much of a difference between dealing with that and with him.

I made my way with caution to the window and pulled the blinds up. He was hanging upside-down from nothing as far as I could see; maybe digging his fingers into a crack in the wood, maybe holding onto the window’s outside casing for dear life. There were no words exchanged for a good minute. I gave him a tired gaze that I hoped communicated, _ You’d better make this quick or I’ll be starting a criminal record of my own. _ He raised—well, lowered—one hand to adjust his mask.

_ “Aren’t you gonna let me in?” _

“What do you want.”

_ “You can just open the door, if you’d like. I get it.” _

“If you ‘got it,’ then you wouldn’t be here.”

_ “Come on, please?” _

I crossed my arms and let out my most aggravated sigh. _ Fine. _“You’re a madman,” I said as I lifted the screen with some difficulty, just enough to let him in. Before I could decide to abruptly drop it on his body, he had crawled inside—still upside-down, might I add—like some four-legged insect and collapsed onto my couch with a soft “oof.” After a moment, he seemed to realize that he owed me an explanation but did nothing except tilt his head towards me and mutter, “Hi.”

“How long were you waiting out there?” I asked it more out of fear that Morgan could’ve seen him than anything else. He shrugged and stood up.

“Couple minutes.” He seemed to notice the look on my face and held up his hands. “Hey, I wouldn’t just show myself if there was another person here. Who is she, a friend of yours?”

“Take a wild guess.”

A verbal stalemate stretched across two minutes, and as usual, neither of us really had any upper ground. It annoyed me even more than it would have if he was in the right; and that would’ve annoyed me a _ lot. _ Eventually, he held out laced hands with his shoulders hunched, as if to say, _ I don’t know what to tell you. _

“So, I think we definitely got off on the wrong foot—”

“Understatement of the fucking century,” I said under my breath. He wasn’t deterred.

“And I know the last thing you want is me standing in your house. Again. But I just came to give this back,” he said, reaching into his hood and producing the book I’d been reading at the park. It had a few bloody fingerprints on it, but not as much as I would’ve expected from him. I wanted to walk away and tell him to fuck off like I would any normal invasive creep, but _ this _ invasive creep was in my house right now and nearly killed me twice. So I just stood there, hugged my arms, and muttered, “I said _ keep _ it. It’s not that big of a deal—”

“_ Back of Your Mind: A Summative Review of the Human Brain and Its Functions, _” he read aloud from the cover, seeming quite interested. “Sounds kind of important, don’t you think?” He held the book out for me to take. When I did nothing, he shook it at little as if I simply wasn’t noticing it. “Go on. Take it.”

After a good back-and-forth in my brain about whether I should trust this or not, I snatched it away and flipped through the pages, hoping with all my heart to find them clean. Fortunately, Jack hadn’t been a total asswipe, and my book was safe. Well, besides the cover. I shut it and gave him a suspicious look before turning to put the book back on its shelf. Really, I just wanted to avoid facing him any longer.

“…okay. Anything else? Or should I break your bones, too, for all that nonsense back at the park?”

“Those are some brave words for somebody in your…area of expertise, I guess you could call it.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, still not looking in his direction. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not an idiot, you know. Did some looking around. Found a couple of things out.” When I turned around, panicked, he did nothing but raise his hands and tilt his head, genuinely confused.

“You’re going to university for _ medicine? _ Based on literally everything I’ve seen you do, I can’t say I expected that.”

_ Oh, thank god. _ I folded my arms like I was interrogating him. “Well, what _ did _you expect?”

“I don’t know, maybe I thought you majored in theatre? Creative writing, martial arts? I didn’t think you’d want to be a doctor.” He lifted his mask, and I saw the start of a teasing look dawn on his face. “I mean…you, of all people, in one of those big white lab coats, helping cure illnesses, giving patients the ‘bad news’? It doesn’t exactly come easy to the mind, imagining that.”

I scoffed, picking up a pencil from the coffee table and twirling it between my fingers. “Listen, just because I, personally, am garbage, doesn’t mean I can’t put a little good in the world.”

Jack’s expression softened almost immediately. “Oh, well, I don’t think you’re _ garbage _—”

“Not what I mean. And besides, what do you mean by ‘brave words,’ seeing as _ I _ know the average breaking point of every bone in the human body? I get your whole little operational, surgical shtick, and don’t get me wrong; it’s cute. But how much do you actually know about…well, anything?”

“Enough to get me by. Oh—and I found this in your bathroom.” Before I could react, he held up a tiny bottle of pills and examined it with the same curiosity as my book. “Would you look at that…”

I didn’t get the feeling he was taunting me at all, but my throat and chest still practically caught on fire. I dug my nails into my palms and said through gritted teeth, “Put that down. Right now.”

“Not so fast. You’re a college student, right? How’d you manage to afford _ estrogen?” _

“What does that have to do with anything?! Put it down and get out!”

“Okay, okay.” He set the bottle down on a nearby table and brushed his hands off on his jeans. “So I’m guessing that’s the other thing you didn’t want me to find out, huh?”

“I said get out.”

“Hold on a second! That’s not what I’m here to talk about, I came here to say I’m sorry for getting all threatening and stuff. You know, back at the park?”

“Apology accepted, I still don’t like you, now get out of my house—”

“I also _ really _think you should consider helping me out here,” he continued over me, stepping closer and holding his mask to his chest like a gentleman with his hat. “Don’t forget, you’re in danger, too. We can help each other, you just have to agree.”

“You’re not giving me a choice, are you?” I took a step back respectively, eyes darting around the room for anything I could use as a weapon if he got violent. _ Again _. Jack gripped the edge of his mask in what I could only assume was frustration; I noticed he was also wearing gloves this time. It looked like his nails were about to slice through them.

“Aren’t you a tiny bit scared of what might happen if you keep shooing me away like this?”

“A little bit, yeah! I’m scared of what you might do if you stay in my house any longer. Now I have to get ready for classes, so if you’ll excuse me…”

“Just think about it.”

His voice was getting more desperate by the second, and I almost felt guilty for all the times I shut him down about this. I’d already started up the stairs, fully intending to leave him behind and act like he wasn’t there if he still refused to leave. I looked back. His face read pure fear.

_ Why doesn’t he just kill me and go, like he was supposed to? _

“…say there is some _ thing _that I’ll have to lie to in order to save your skin.”

“Our skin, Sawyer,” he hissed. I narrowed my eyes.

“Fine, then. Our skin. You won’t be bothering me about it every other day, right? I don’t ever have to see you again, if whatever you have planned goes well.”

“Oh, no, not ever again. So you’re agreeing to help me?” He was obviously trying to keep the hope and relief in his voice to a minimum, and it wasn’t working out too great for him. I sighed, looked down at my hands, and gripped the railing tightly. _ I can’t be making the right choice. But he won’t leave me alone until I say it. _

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll do you this one favor. But you _ have _to leave me alone once it’s over and done with.”

“I swear I will. Okay, let’s do this properly.” He walked up and held out his hand, nodding for me to do the same. I didn’t move a muscle. After a moment, he raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.

“Come on. It’s just a handshake. Nothing to worry about.”

_ This is definitely a trap. _

I shook my head with a distrustful look. “I don’t think so,” I said, heading up towards my room and hoping he would take the hint to leave.


	5. Halloween

Morgan was right; I needed a break. More specifically, I needed to see our friends. There appeared a tiny, cramped bubble I closed myself off in every year come September. Right now, I was desperate to break out—and Halloween was only days away.

Classes picked up from there. I was actually sort of enjoying them, if you could imagine. It helped to remind myself what I was working for. Thankfully, neither the small, judgy group in my Nursing class nor that one guy who chased me outside the building bothered me for a while after the day Jack visited. The most I got was a condescending sneer from both of them.

Morgan informed me later, almost as if by strategy, of a small party being held at a guy named Sean’s house on the 31st. Well, I say that like I didn’t know him, which couldn’t be further from the truth. He’d picked me up from a sad little curb on the outskirts of our high school’s social hierarchy years ago, and hadn’t stopped talking to me ever since. He also hadn’t stopped  _ talking _ ever since, period. Lovely person to be around, in the right doses.

The end of the month came sooner than expected. I’d gotten back home from a pretty lenient day of classes, my social battery just short of drained, my mood not so hasty to pick a side. The only thing on my mind was tonight’s kickback. At least, it  _ had  _ been the only thing on my mind, until I entered the kitchen for a quick pick-me-up.

Muddy footprints trailed after one another, leading to the table in the center. I noticed my coffee pot had been emptied, and a series of light scratches lined up on the wall like tally marks. I scowled as my gaze fell upon the real kicker: a tiny piece of paper, folded up in the middle of the table with a scribbled letter J on it. I narrowed my eyes and picked it up to examine both sides. It was surprisingly clean, the most damage it seemed to have endured was the trouble of folding it up. If Jack’s claw-like nails weren’t retractable, I imagined it couldn’t have been too easy—that is, if he was even the one who dropped this off.  _ How many other people with J-names do I know? _

Whatever. All the evidence pointed to him, anyways. I trudged upstairs and placed the note on my bedside desk to be dealt with later.  _ Stupid guy can’t even clean up after himself. _

* * *

“Hey, you could make it!”

At 8:00, Morgan nearly crushed me in a hug as I doubtfully eyed the blank walls around Sean’s doorway.

“Uh, yeah…I thought this was a Halloween party?”

“It is. Doesn’t mean it has to look like one from outside.” She released me and dragged me into the house by an arm. There wasn’t much of interest inside, either—actually, it looked like he’d just finished taking all of his decorations down for the year. No light escaped the rooms on the side. Only the front hall was illuminated; everything else was practically a black hole. Morgan led me through one of these side rooms, past a small dining table, what looked to be a makeshift recording studio, and finally to a door of scratched, rotting wood that was locked when she tried opening it. She groaned and knocked abrasively.

“Sean! It’s not funny, let us in!”

I heard his muffled voice from behind the door.

_ “No. Show her the other way.” _

Morgan groaned again, this time louder, and grabbed my hand to drag me along some more. We ended up outside again, facing an almost blank wood wall.  _ Almost _ blank. There was one large square in the center that looked like it had been carved out and fitted back in; I noticed it was positioned above a tiny egress window, one that probably led to the basement. Morgan dug her fingers into one of the vertical cracks in the wood, wincing the tiniest bit, and pulled with all her might. The giant patch opened like a revolving door to reveal a rectangular hole in the dirt, reaching down god-knows-how-far. Against my better judgement, I peered over the edge with a hand on the wall to steady myself. There was a rope ladder stationed on our side of the hole, also seeming to go on forever, or at least until the darkness swallowed it up. I folded my arms and wished for illuminating daylight, or Sean’s voice,  _ some  _ kind of reassurance that down there wasn’t just…nothing. Morgan didn’t seem as perturbed.

“He won’t even tell me if he’s the one who built this…” She scoffed and pushed her glasses up with a finger, in the most aggravated manner one could do that without breaking the frames. “And now I probably have a splinter.”

I shivered in my leather jacket, looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Well, unless he owns it now, I’m pretty sure it’d be illegal to renovate the place.” Turning my attention back to the hole, I felt that same sense of uneasiness rush back to me. “Are…are we supposed to just go inside—?”

_ “Come down, you two, it’s fine. Darla did it.” _

Sean sounded unbelievably cocky, even more so than when I’d last seen him. For some strange reason, it didn’t annoy me now. Morgan crouched down, hoisted herself over the side of this secret entrance, and started climbing down.

“Yeah, and  _ Darla _ also hopped that fence into the unfinished park when we all told her not to.” She caught my gaze and gave one last exasperated shake of the head before completely sinking into the darkness. “I swear…”

Given no other options, I started heading down as well.

I hopped down from the ladder’s last flimsy rung and reopened my eyes—yeah, I’d kept them shut on the way down, get over it—to a spacious, brightly-lit room covered floor to ceiling in all the house’s missing Halloween decorations. Sean, that shy but talkative bastard, was setting down various bottles of soda on a table in the corner. It seemed he was having a hard time getting a huge banner (reading “Yikes!” in corny orange letters) to stay where it was supposed to. Darla sat cross-legged on a blood red couch opposite to him, flipping through the pages of a magazine and looking unbelievably bored. She glanced up upon my arrival, a tiny smile fighting its way onto her face.

“Oh, hey. You’re here.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know,” I shot back, taking off my jacket and looking around for a place to hang it. Sean turned around, noticed my predicament, and wordlessly pointed to a coat rack on the far end of the room. I raised an eyebrow at the convenience.

“You’ve got a whole setup here, don’t you?”

“Took the liberty to make my own mini-house down here. Not allowed to touch anything in the side rooms off of it, but I won’t complain.” As he propped up one more plastic bottle on the table, a pained grin flashed across his face. “Just be careful where you go wandering. My landlord is one bloodthirsty woman, I can tell you that.”

I chuckled and hung my coat up, rejecting his offer of a hug in exchange for a high-five. “What’s up?”

“Too much. Honestly, I thought you’d have more questions about the door…”

“I’m not sure if I want to know at this point. Darla, how’ve you been?”

Darla stretched her arms out, undoubtedly cracking a few joints in the process, and flipped a few orange locks over her shoulder. “Splendid,” she said in a deadpan voice that made me snort.

“Um, okay, more specific?”

“Oh, you know me, Sawyer, always doing the same old thing. I definitely won’t have  _ anything  _ to talk about once it’s story time.” Her eyes flashed wickedly over the magazine as she dove back in, scanning page after page for something of interest. Why she was looking in a  _ Vogue  _ issue from over five years ago for entertainment was beyond me. I approached the couch where both she and Morgan had made themselves comfortable, hesitant to sit down just yet. The room grew uncomfortably quiet, and I realized what was wrong.

“…did you guys plan for any  _ music  _ to be playing here? Or are we just going to sit around in silence for the rest of the night.”

Sean’s eyes lit up. “Well, how about some oldies?” I caught a glimpse of the CD his hand was inching towards, on a high shelf up against the wall. The Four Seasons. I rolled my eyes.

“Oh my god,  _ this _ again.”

“What? They were stars of their time! There’s a movie about them and everything.”

“C’mon, Sawyer, just let him have this.” Morgan pushed me down to sit under the guise of giving me a pat on the shoulder, and I begrudgingly accepted defeat. Sean popped the CD into this old, dusty player across the room and started humming along to “Big Girls Don’t Cry”—a song I had heard one too many times ever since I came out to this bunch.

“Oh, guys, I forgot…!” He rushed over to a huge but worn TV in the middle of the wall and retrieved a fistful of cables that were connected to some sort of gaming console I was unfamiliar with. “Somebody in my dorm room last year loaned me a bunch of games. Most of them are multiplayer, is anyone in the mood?”

Morgan raised a confident hand. “Only if it’s  _ Nightmare Rangers. _ I know you’ll rig anything else we play.”

“And  _ I _ know that’s just your language for ‘I can only win games I’ve already played against a newbie—’”

“Not true! And I can see the disk behind your back!” She pointed accusingly at his right hand, and he seemed to take a sudden and remarkable interest in the wall beside him.

“Hey, I just think we could level the playing field a little. How about  _ Conundrum? _ Competitive Mode? It works better with the system, anyway.”

Morgan narrowed her eyes in skepticism. “…alright. I’ll pander to you this time, Colins. But  _ I  _ am setting it up, not you.” She got up and held her hand out for the  _ Conundrum _ disk, sticking out her tongue as Sean gave it up and stepped out of her way. Frankie Valli kept singing his heart out in the background, regaining Sean’s attention to my dismay.

“Told my girl we had to break up, hopin’ that she would call my bluff…” He sang softly, nudging Darla in the side. I sighed and stood up to get a drink while she giggled and joined in.

_ “Then she said, to my surprise—” _

“Shut…up…Sean…Colins!” I practically yelled to the melody, getting a surprised laugh from everyone. The boy in question raised an eyebrow once I’d sat back down and pointed at me.

“Hey, you got the harmony right! I’m rubbing off on you.”

I groaned. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes!”

“You’ve gotten so obsessed with the 50s, it’s insane! I can’t associate myself with you anymore,” I said, dramatically holding out my hands and looking away like I was facing a walking scandal. Sean and Morgan started their game while Darla slapped me on the back, probably not aiming to break my ribs but fulfilling the mission anyways.

“And  _ you’ve  _ gotten a lot more uptight since…” After a variety of doubtful facial expressions, she pursed her lips and shrugged. “Actually, I’m pretty sure you’ve always been this uptight. Has the whole ‘doctor, doctor’ thing helped at all?”

“Why do you insist on calling it that?” I sighed and leaned forward to get a better look at the tiny scoreboard up on-screen. Sean was in the lead. “You say it like it’s a phase.”

“Yeah, a life phase! You’ll be into this right now, and then for years until you either give up or die. Then in your  _ next  _ life, you can—hey!” She stuck her tongue out at me after wrestling off the pillow I’d thrown in her face. “Don’t know why I’m telling this to  _ you _ , anyway, Little Miss Non-Believer. You’ll thank me one day.”

“Maybe when I’m 92 and on my deathbed,” I scoffed, letting my eyes fall half-closed. Despite herself, Darla leaned onto me and started braiding a tiny section of my hair.

“Well, I’ll wait,” she said, her voice deep and ominous. “I will  _ wait. _ ”

“Good to know.”

“French braid or box braid?”

“Whichever one looks more ridiculous on me. Hey, do you still have that old journal of yours, or whatever you call it?”

“The collection of my prophetic genius.” Darla sighed and halted her braiding, and though I couldn’t see her face, I knew she was clad with some somber, wistful expression. “Poor thing perished in a fire uptown, months ago.”

I rested my head in one hand and raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you bring it to someone’s birthday in August and demand they ‘choose their fortune’?”

She snickered and pat me twice on the head. “Yeah, I’m just screwing with you. Hey, whichever one of you dies first, can you get the notebook? It’s in my bag,” she yelled, much louder than she needed to, at the two fixated on Sean’s TV.

“You heard her, Sean, you’re getting it once you die,” Morgan said through her teeth. It was amusing to see her so invested in this game. Sean let out a hoot of laughter.

“You really think I’m gonna lose, don’t you?!”

“I  _ know _ you are!” Within a split second, her face switched from frighteningly determined to dismayed and caught off guard. “Shit, no, enemy’s right there! I thought we were playing on easy—”

“ _ BOOM!  _ Ha! I told you, leveling the playing field!” Sean stood up, arms raised in victory, and promptly collapsed onto the couch next to Darla and me. Despite her loss, Morgan was visibly holding back laughter as Sean celebrated.

“And now I am crowned as rightful king of this game—”

“Okay, buddy, dial it back a little.” I chuckled and patted his shoulder, looking around the room for Darla’s bag since I knew nobody else would remember to get it now. “Morgan, you okay? I mean, you  _ did _ just die by the bull-man’s hands…”  _ Hooves? _

She let out a deep breath and adjusted her glasses, face still reading shock at the game’s abrupt end. “Eh. I guess it was my fault for not checking the settings. I’ll say we owe each other a rematch,” she said, giving me another one of her knowing smiles.

I tossed Darla her leather-bound notebook, altered to no end with rips, tiny burned holes in its pages torn right from an old diary, even a small drawing of an animal skull glued to one corner of the cover. She was nothing if not “authentic,” in her own, slightly off-putting way.

“Alright, ladies, it’s time for the party to really begin.” She gradually found her element as she flipped through the pages, walking up to the snack table and grabbing a bottle of Gatorade without so much as a second glance. There were many fruitless pauses, with which all of us grew more and more anxious. Finally, she approached the far wall and switched off the lights, leaving only the TV and her cell phone to illuminate the room. Sean closed his eyes and sighed.

“Okay. Just to be clear, we’re not gonna summon anything, are we? I don’t give  _ extended _ invitations anymore, especially not to your supernatural creatures.”

Darla produced a pencil from out of nowhere and grinned, twirling it between her fingers. “Who says they haven’t already been summoned? Do you really think you’d notice if one of us had too many teeth, or never blinked?”

“Ugh, stop, stop it!” I pinched my forehead with one hand and held out the other in a desperate attempt to shut her up. “Just…tell us what we’re doing. What the deal is.”

“But that’s no fun!” she protested.

“Come on, I know you’ve wanted to use that old notebook of yours for  _ something. _ What’s the page you’re on right now?”

Her gaze snapped back to the book, and she answered my question with a sly one of her own.

“What’d you guys say to a seance? You know,  _ real _ Halloween stuff. It doesn’t have to be big—”

“Woah, slow your roll there, Darla.” Sean held up his hands with a nervous smile. “You know this house is rented, right? I don’t really care if ghosts are real or not, but if anything gets damaged the Mahogany Witch will have my head.”

_ I’m going to assume “Mahogany Witch” means his landlord. _

Darla winced in his honor. “Right. Uh, what if I promise to be really careful?”

“Do you have anything else we can do? Something less  _ direct contact with the dead _ -y?”

After a strained silence, she pulled a small yet deadly-looking dagger out of her pocket with a blank expression. “…see any deer pass by this place recently?”

“Animal sacrifice. Illegal.”

She put the dagger away with an irritated huff and checked her phone. “I don’t know, then! Can you have an open flame in the house?”

“Not started by you.”

Darla stole another quick glance at her phone, seeming to realize something. “Oh…alright.” Turning to us with a trademarked mischievous grin, she folded her hands in her lap and let her gaze shift around the room ominously.

“How do you all feel…about creepypasta?”

_ Shit. _

True to what I’d expected, Morgan and Sean looked enamored with the idea. Normally I would’ve jumped on that train, especially this late at night, and at this time of year. But everything I’d experienced beforehand with Jack and the prospect of these things being  _ real  _ made me want to shrink into a corner and hug my knees until Darla stopped talking—and knowing her, that could take forever.

“I’ve got, like, twenty of them here in my bookmarks. There are all these classics…have you guys heard of the Slenderman?”

I sighed. “Everyone’s heard of Slenderman, Darla—wait, you  _ collected  _ them?”

She threw a crooked smile my way. “Yeah, what about it? It’s not like they’re going to haunt me because they’re all in the same webpage folder.” For a moment, there was a glimmer of surprise in her eyes. “Are you… _ scared? _ Of a bunch of crappy urban legends?”

_ Didn’t seem so crappy to you a second ago.  _ I leaned back into the cushions, arms crossed and eyes shut. “I-I just think they’re boring, is all. Do we really need to get our Halloween high off of this stuff? Let’s go into the woods, or a haunted house, or…wait, no, that’s definitely not a good idea.”

“I don’t know about you,” Morgan piped up, shifting close to me and linking our arms, “but  _ I’m _ actually kind of interested in this. They’re, what, just some internet ghost stories?”

Darla seemed to enjoy the strange power she had over us now. A mysterious smile stretched across her face again as she combed some hair over her eyes, in an attempt to channel Cousin It. “Sometimes ghosts. Sometimes malevolent creatures from the pits of hell, the undead looking for vengeance, cryptids that always show up where you least expect them to…some of them are just straight  _ serial _ killers.”

“As opposed to gay ones,” I muttered under my breath. She didn’t stop to laugh.

“Some of them haunt our technology, some sneak down city streets, looking for their next victim. Some…well, a lot of them just haunt one person. And  _ none  _ of them are real,” she finished with an almost arrogant sense of certainty. I raised an eyebrow.

“Hold on, so you don’t even believe in them? What happened to—”

Darla scoffed and waved me away with a dismissive hand. “Please. I might be the craziest occultist try-hard you’ve ever met, but I can think of Nessie sightings realer than  _ creepypasta. _ I mean, it’s been confirmed that most of them are fake! Stories have gotten taken down, apology posts have been made, for Christ’s sake…” she trailed off as she caught sight of my face again. Despite myself, I narrowed my eyes and fiddled with the hem of my shirt.

“That’s what you think.”

_ Wait, wait, what are you doing? Stop. You can’t tell them, who knows what would happen— _

“Oh, do we have ourselves another believer?” Sean teased from the side.

“Just shut up,” I snapped. Immediately, I regretted it, and shrunk into myself even further. The room fell dead quiet for a moment. Morgan furrowed her eyebrows and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, Soy, are you alright? We  _ can  _ do something else, if you really don’t—”

“N-no. I’m okay. Sorry, Sean, I…” I tried to sigh, but it came out more like a huge yawn. “It’s just been a weird year for me so far. New classes, naturally, so there’s new people who are still having a hard time with—well, you know.”

“I get it. And we’re all trying to have fun right now. Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve never really been easy to scare, you know Darla didn’t mean anything about—”

“I’m not scared!” I scoffed and sat up, holding my head as it started to pound. I couldn’t even tell my best friend what had been going on for the past month, how every day felt like a disaster waiting to happen because of what  _ he  _ told me. Why I believed him in the first place, about me having to cover his tracks to keep us both alive, I would never know. That’s probably what scared—no,  _ concerned  _ me the most; that I believed him. And I couldn’t tell a soul. Morgan held up her hands in surprise.

“Okay. You’re not scared. I never said that. But I feel like something’s wrong.”

“It’s fine. I was being snappy, I’m sorry, let’s just drop this whole thing. Darla, you can do your creepy, haunted, witchy-stories-thing if you want to.”

Darla raised her eyebrows, phone still in hand. “Uh…okay. Thanks. Actually, ‘witchy’ reminds me of something. Hold on…” She rummaged through her bag and fished out a small piece of paper, most likely a list of some sorts. She scanned through it quickly, nodding once and turning her attention back to us.

“Okay. I’ve got one. Not exactly creepypasta, I actually kind of forgot what it was attached to…definitely some other, more famous story. I think it might’ve gotten taken down. It’s a demon called Chernobog.”

Sean snickered. “So they’re running out of names for all the demons now. Isn’t that some kind of abandoned town in Ukraine?”

“Cherno- _ bog, _ my dearest Sean, not Chernobyl. And I…well, I honestly don’t know why they call it that. But it isn’t as ridiculous as it sounds. This thing is a Slavic legend, one of a  _ species _ of demons—think like the ‘big three’. Satan, Lucifer, and this guy. Everything else about it’s pretty standard, other than that it’s probably the one most people deem real. At the very least, plausible.” She surveyed the room, disappointed when nobody gave a substantial reaction in then next few seconds. She sighed. “Do you want to know  _ why?” _

“Oh, yeah, sure,” said everybody, more-or-less. Darla looked as if she was starting to think maybe it was a bad idea to host her story time this late at night, when almost nobody was capable of coherent…well, anything. She sighed again.

“Anyway, there’s been a bunch of weird physical evidence of Chernobog all around the world. His name’s carved, in various languages, into surfaces that are basically impossible to carve into. Random circles of ash with a ‘purified’ center, some people call it, in the middle of forests where no camping sites have been set up. Conspiracy theories suggest he has henchmen, about a hundred in every country, gathering followers for him or wreaking chaos where they’re ordered. Some say they’re all just lunatics obeying the same imaginary deity. His name’s been tied, in one way or another, to pretty much  _ every  _ inexplicable disaster people can get their hands on. It’s a little gross, come to think of it, whether he’s real or not.”

“Um. Yeah. What do  _ you _ think about it, though, do you think that he…” I stifled a yawn with my hand. “…that Cherny-boy’s real?” The tiny conflict from earlier had left me completely. Darla shrugged and took a sip of her Gatorade. It threw me off a bit, seeing somebody like her drinking what was basically radioactive sour-candy water.

“Can’t say much for sure. I think people definitely  _ follow _ him, and on a worldwide scale, too. All the little signs people have found of him are pretty cool. Kind of sad, though.”

“Why?” Morgan asked.

“‘Cause he used to be this great, terrible god people would worship in Slavic tribes, not just a cheap name companies throw into pop culture, or wherever he is nowadays.” She gave an exaggerated little shiver with her teeth grinding. “Makes my blood boil just talking about it. I want to be a caveman again.”

_ Again…? _

* * *

_ “That was fun y’all. Can’t wait for a PROPER spooking next year :P” _

_ “Oh come on, you wouldn’t be able to handle it. Be glad we kept things vanilla this time.” _

I scoffed and shook my head at Darla’s text while waiting for my stop to be called. The lights reflecting on the windows of the bus, as well as cars passing by in a blur, completely obscured my view of whatever was out there beyond the street. My grip on the standing pole tightened just in time for a speed bump, and I nearly dropped my phone. A good thing I didn’t, since that would’ve ripped my headphones right off and exposed me to the two other people here as a cheesy pop music lover.

_ Call it whatever you want, but now’s our last chance _

_ Stick it to the nonbelievers, give me this one last dance— _

“Excuse me, miss, but your necklace is lovely. Where did you get it?”

I hastily paused the song and looked to my right. A short, middle-aged woman sitting opposite me was awkwardly pointing at her neck. I took a moment to process her question, my face growing warmer by the second.

“…oh. Uh, thanks. It was from a little stand on a shore in Mexico, got it with some birthday money.” I looked down at the necklace in question; it was really just a small shark tooth on a piece of string. Brought back fond memories, so I wore it around often. “The place is probably long gone now. Sorry.”

The lady shook her head with a warm smile. “That’s alright. You know, my son has a tooth like that. Lots of them, in fact.”

I had to blink to catch it all—this woman’s eyes felt just a little too beady to be real. For a second, they looked like they were about to fall out, while her smile turned into a wide grin which turned into a face practically split in half. I gulped and blinked again.

She went back to normal.

_ Do you really think you’d notice if someone had too many teeth? _

I got off the bus at the next stop, music blaring in my ears so that my head pounded with rhythm instead of an anxious heartbeat.

“Hello, house,” I sighed, shutting the door behind me and leaning against it for comfort. I knew better than to try and think at this hour, but…

_ No. No but’s. You are going to sleep right now, you can think all you want in the morning. _

I collapsed onto the bed with such harshness I felt the mattress frame creak under my weight. This was true happiness; just coming back from a friend’s house late at night with nothing to do but rest. I was practically melting into my covers, like chocolate on a warm plate. I felt so relaxed that I’d almost forgotten about the note on my nightstand.


	6. I Waste Two Hours of My Life On This Idiot

November turned campus and my life into a barren wasteland. There were no visits. No offers for internships. I’d expected this year to be a little more eventful than last, true to the usual pattern, but was met by anticlimactic disappointment with each passing day. I felt tiny parts of myself flake off into the air and land like ash at my feet, my head and arms crumbling into dust, my body only one gust of wind away from completely disappearing. I didn’t even have the luxury of peaceful boredom. Sure, nothing new was happening, but I knew that if something did, there was a 50/50 chance it would blow up in my face and send me careening over the edge. I didn’t need excitement, I just needed something  _ better _ than this. And I didn’t need a masked intruder in my house to make things worse.

Everybody’s willingness to get along and make new friends had been fully drained since the end of middle school—that, I knew. But it didn’t stop my sleep-deprived brain from telling me everyone in my classes was already starting to form their own little friend groups. Cliques, if I could go so far as to say that. After all, throughout most of my day I’d unwittingly surrounded myself with the outgoing, extroverted kind rather than people who would just let me be alone in peace. And they didn’t seem too interested in, I don’t know,  _ including  _ me to some capacity either. I was in a horrible gray area of loneliness. At least, that’s what my mind kept telling me on bad days.

I remembered the date better than I usually do: December 15th. Dr. Nakamura would not stop talking about anesthesia for a good hour, and that was what kept bouncing around in my head as I walked home. My face probably had lines pressed into it on either side from the seam of my jacket sleeve. I really needed a nap during that class. Somehow, I still managed to catch most of what she’d said:

“It’s standard procedure to ask a patient what kind of medication they may be on, even more so if they have multiple prescriptions. Certain combinations of pharmaceutical drugs can make the normal dose of anesthesia dangerous, or even lethal.” Nakamura pointed her signature meter stick at the first bullet point up on the board, eyes darting skeptically around the hall. “…Andy. Is there a problem?”

“No, ma’am.”

Right. Andy sat in my row. I flinched at the sudden noise next to me and buried my face further into the crook of my elbow, gaze still following the procedure sheet she’d handed out. The professor continued after a split second’s hesitation.

“…so they tend to lower the dose. If this is the case, ‘anesthesia awareness’ is more likely to occur. Patients who wake up during an operation usually feel little to no pain, but the event can be disturbing or even traumatic for them regardless. It is  _ crucial  _ for you all to know…”

After that, her voice sank underwater, and all I heard was a middle-aged woman babbling on 20 feet away from me, like a schoolteacher’s brassy “wah” in  _ Charlie Brown. _ Not the best example, on my part, of a university student hard at work. But what was I going to do.

_ I feel so tired all the time now. What happened? _

In about a week I’d be heading to my parents’ place for winter break. My day had been shitty, to say the least. I’d gotten back from a chock-full day of work, social navigations, and explaining myself to  _ every single person _ who asked why professors fumble over my name so much. Not to say all of them do, but when it happens, my classmates notice. I was getting sick of it. I rammed open the front door with my shoulder after the first few failed attempts, thinking maybe it had gotten stuck.  _ But that usually only happens in the summertime. _

I caught a glance at the inside of the doorway. It looked like it’d been burnt by the door itself, the edges clean, the rest of its casing untouched. For whatever reason, my house didn’t even feel like my house anymore…

_ Hold on. _

Most people had ran out of fucks to give around senior year of high school, but I somehow managed to grow even more paranoid as the years went by. Looking into my past and generally who I am as a person, I guess it would make sense. But there’s a key difference, at least for me, between thinking something is up and  _ knowing _ something is up. This was definitely a knowing moment. I hesitated in going upstairs, narrowing my eyes. Instead I let my bag drop to the floor, loudly, and put a hand on my hip.

“I sure hope there isn’t somebody else already up there,” I called, scanning every room in my current line of sight. There weren’t many I could see from here. I heard a soft hiss from up the stairs, like the sound of a fire being put out, and my hopes dropped significantly along with my shoulders.

“So I’ve got a new feral cat, is what I’m hearing from you.”

Next came a cough as I ascended the stairs, and when I turned the corner a mixture of Jack’s signature tar and some other liquid became visible, coating the floor. As a little cherry on top, it seemed to be coming from my room.

“Ah. Perfect! Just what I needed today, after that delightful pop quiz and the announcement of  _ multiple  _ lab projects…”

I trailed off as I took the sight in more and more, stepping as close as possible without actually touching the stuff.

_ …blood? _

I looked up and at my door, the start of something horrible growing in the pit of my stomach. “Are you…is everything… _ please  _ don’t tell me you brought a body here, at the very least.”

Another cough, and I heard Jack’s weak voice from inside. “You’re home.”

“Well, of course I’m home, it’s 6:00! What did you do this time?!” I tiptoed around the mess and tried to find a way of maneuvering myself into my own room. I made it about five feet with clean shoes, because as soon as I caught sight of him collapsed on the floor with dark blood pooling around his body, I held back a gasp and rushed to his side.

“Holy  _ shit!  _ What happened, is—is all this yours? How long have you just been lying here?!”

His face was buried in one of his arms, and he lifted his head to look at me. The mask was off and his eye sockets were practically twin waterfalls—if by water, you meant burning black goo. He mustered a sort of twisted, “it’s funny to see you this worried about me” smile, but I had a feeling all of it was still real. I looked wildly around the room, spied his note on my desk, and reached up to open it.

_ “Hi this is really rushed I think something’s going to happen and you’re the only” _

It stopped there. I was barely able to read it at first, it was practically sealed shut and his handwriting was atrocious. I glanced back at him, grabbed him by the shoulders (trying not to recoil at the stickiness of his sweater) and dragged him with some success to a table in the other room.

“So you go and almost get yourself killed, then first think to go to the most inexperienced ‘doctor’ on campus to help, huh?” I said through clenched teeth, laying him down and looking back at the trail of blood that had followed us. “Either I’m your only friend right now, or you love making my life  _ so _ much harder than it has to be. Stay here.”

“Oh, I have tons of friends. Tons and tons and tons, and maybe even a few more…” He giggled as I went to gather my supplies from the bathroom, with  _ supplies _ being a more dignified phrase than “the first-aid kit my mother forces me to bring to campus every year.”

“Where is a goddamn surgical needle when you need one…?” I grumbled to myself, racking my brain for where I could ever obtain something like that. Going to one of my professors was right out; the amount of questions they would have for me alone if I showed up back at the lecture hall, dragging some poor gray-skinned thing by the hood with tar and blood covering both of us…I couldn’t exactly say that the idea of Jack being put away for life, or worse, upset me all that much. But there was no doubt  _ someone _ would think I was complicit in his murders. Still, I wanted to help him, because…

_ Why  _ do  _ I want to help him? _

I shut my eyes and banished the subject from my mind, focusing back on the more immediate problem here.

“Hey, where’d you get this table…? It’s super comfy, I feel like… _ ha ha, _ I feel like I’m floating on a cloud!” Jack wheezed, his words almost incoherent from the blood in his mouth. “A really cold steel cloud,” he singsonged. I made my way back to the room with as much as I could carry in both arms, laying the tools down on the floor (an extremely bad idea in any other situation) before leaning over him to examine any wounds. While his body was practically in hell, the look on his face said otherwise.  _ It’s like he’s drunk. Or on laughing gas, maybe numbed beyond belief. _

“You with me, buddy…?” I asked, carefully unzipping his hoodie but maintaining eye contact. “Because it kind of feels like— _ Jesus Christ!” _

Some kind of nausea-inducing, misty smoke started coming off his body, swirling on the floor, around my feet, and in the air above him. He narrowed his eyelids.

“Oh. That’s…new,” he muttered. I looked down to see that his shirt had been completely torn and burnt, revealing a giant gash in his stomach from which the smoke poured out. I stepped back, afraid to even get near it.

_ No. You’re doing this, whether you like it or not. What’s a little mess if you can just wear gloves, right? _

“Jack, what in  _ hell  _ is that?” My voice cracked and wavered, and he lazily turned his head.

“Eh, help first, explain later. You got one o’ your…” he raised his hands with difficulty to poke the air, imitating a needle. “…little…prickly things?” He started laughing again. “You seem like you’d like those.”

I glared at him, already reaching my limit with this vague nonsense, and nodded. “Alright. Okay, help first. Then you can  _ help _ by telling me exactly what this stuff is and whether or not it’ll kill me if I touch it. Deal?”

“Hm. Sawyer, Sawyer, Saw…oh, wait, how many jokes can I make out of your name?” He snickered to himself, then narrowed his eyelids at the ceiling. “I think I’m gonna start counting. Let me know if you can come up wi—”

“Do  _ not _ start counting. Jack, will the smoke hurt me?” I said the words slowly and with long pauses in between, like I was talking to a preschooler. As I struggled to get a pair of latex gloves on without any snapping noises, he seemed to think about it, though I feared for a second that he was still trying to come up with jokes.

“Mm…uh. No. I mean, c’mon, it’s just  _ smoke. _ Can’t be that bad.”

_ Do  _ you _ even know what happened to you at this point?! _

“Okay,” I breathed, grabbing a regular sewing needle and some extremely thin thread, hoping with all my heart that whatever kind of creature he was couldn’t die from a little infection. “I’ll take your word for it. Um, this might hurt a little, so…sorry, not sorry.” With one final dig through the first-aid kit, I found some antibiotic cream and sighed with relief.  _ Maybe antibodies also kill dark curses, or demonic entities, or whatever this is. _

Treating somebody as used to pain as Jack in this weird, drunken, half-awake state was no less interesting than it was completely terrifying. Every other second I was afraid I’d done something wrong, and his utter lack of a reaction to anything but my voice didn’t help to calm me down. Eventually came the time to give him stitches, and it was only then that I realized he had countless other cuts and bruises all over his body. All recent, all bleeding horribly, and all releasing that same nauseating smoke. I resisted the urge to bang my head into a nearby wall and kept working, telling myself that it would all be worth it once I’d finished.

_ I swear, this is going to come back and bite me somehow. He’s going to snap out of this weird… _ thing  _ he’s in, remember everything that happened, and think I love him  _ so  _ much just because I decided to do this. And what am I going to do then, say it was nothing? Just another regular day, being a regular med student?! _

“Name a single better way I could’ve tested my skills and education on the spot, Jack. I’ll wait,” I muttered as I looked him over one last time to make sure I hadn’t missed anything that needed treatment.  _ Though somebody else probably could’ve fixed you up with an internet tutorial or two.  _ All the smoke had faded from the room, at least all that I could see. The only thing I could do now was wash him down or get him clean some other way, but…

_ Ew. Not today. Maybe when we’re further along, friendship-wise, and he’s acting like less of a child. _

Jack started talking again before I could ask myself why I even considered us friends.

“Hey, hey, you, that…that was cool of you. Like, really…” His voice faded to a whisper as he leaned to one side of the table, maybe trying to fall asleep. I wasn’t particularly moved.

“You think so? Well, thanks to  _ you, _ I won’t be able to have anyone over here for at least a week unless I want people to think I’m some mad scientist with a lust for blood! I mean, the floor, the stairs, whatever you touched in my room—”

Jack blew a raspberry and let a hand hang off the edge of the table closest to me, like he expected me to do something with that. “Who needs other people, you have me here!”

I didn’t know exactly how to respond, other than, “…what?”

He turned back to me with a frown, eyebrows knit close together. “I said, who needs—”

“No, I heard what you said, buddy. I was just…” I hesitated and then sighed, taking my gloves off and setting them down on a dresser to be thrown out later. “Why are you saying these things? I get that you’re delirious, or high, or  _ something _ because of whatever mess you got yourself into. But usually when people are on drugs and alcohol, they’re just loud and have no filter. All you’re being is…weirdly nice to me,” I realized out loud, starting to feel queasy. Jack opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He stayed quiet for a minute before sighing.

“I’m going to die, aren’t I, Sawyer?”

_ That  _ threw me for a loop. I tilted my head, eyes widened. “I’d like to say no…? I mean, if you are, then what did I just go to all that trouble for?”

His face lit up with surprise, and he struggled to prop himself up on his elbows. “Really? I-I’m not? It’s just, I thought I would never see you again. You looked so scared, and there was so much…blood…” He looked at me through narrowed eyes like I was a completely different person. “Wow. I have so many friends, but I think you’re, like, the best. The best of ‘em all.”

I found it in myself to smile, if only a little bit.  _ He really knows about half of what’s going on right now, doesn’t he? _

“Yeah, you’re gonna be fine, Jack. Though maybe now would be a good time to explain what even happened to you in the first place?” I said expectantly, leaning forward with folded arms. He sniffed and flopped back down, stretching his limbs. A lot of the blood and tar coating his clothes had dried, a fact which came as an unpleasant surprise while I watched him move around on his makeshift bed.

“Oh, I remember. I remember— _ do _ I remember? No, something definitely happened. Big…boss guy, oh man, he was  _ angry. _ Ugh, I hate this already,” he grumbled, letting his head hang back and drumming his nails on the table. “Can I just sleep? Please, pretty please? I can tell you tomorrow, I’ll be awake.”

“But you  _ are _ awake right now.”

“Nope! I’m not. Not anymore. Sleep.”

He didn’t bother to close his eyes, simply facing the ceiling and not moving a muscle. I looked around the room—still a mess, still able to make my stomach churn from a single glance. As Jack lay there, motionless apart from his breathing, I started to wonder.

_ Was he acting that way because he thought this would be the last time I saw him? Was he really in pain, but put on a brave face so that I didn’t have to worry even more? _

_ Why would he care? _

I furrowed my eyebrows, realizing something else. “Did you climb through my window like this? You know you could’ve just knocked. I mean, I wouldn’t have been home anyways, but…”

I stopped talking when I noticed he’d already fallen asleep, true to his word.

_ …stupid boy. _


	7. I Can Safely Say I Now Believe In a Hell—Heaven, Still Debatable

“Hey.”

_ …no… _

_ “Hey.” _

_ Mmn…five more minutes— _

“Sawyer!”

Jack grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me awake, features reading frustration and worry. I almost punched him in the face (by instinct, of course. I totally didn’t want him to shut up right then and there) and tried to free myself from his hold. No luck; this guy had  _ the most  _ inconvenient iron grip.

“Jesus, one of the only days I have off and you’re trying to wake me up this early?!”

“How did I get here. What are all these stitches doing in me, why was there so much blood in the room—” He stopped himself, looked me up and down, and folded his arms with a scowl. “Of course, why am I trying to get a straight answer out of  _ you.  _ You’re probably going to give me some bullshit story about your second cousin-in-law having a lobotomy, or whatever you can think up this time.”

I sat up and held my head, trying to process all this at…

_ What time is it, even? _

“You’re still holding onto that, huh,” I said through gritted teeth, feeling a massive headache about to come on. “Sorry for lying to save my own life that one time.”

“Whatever, just tell me what I’m doing here. I wake up with half of my body covered in  _ these _ ,” he said, lifting his torn-up scrap of a shirt and gesturing to a stitch in his left side, “no memory of how they got there, covered in tar and blood, and I walk into the next room to find you snoring up a storm. What the  _ hell _ is up, Doc?!”

I frowned. “I don’t snore.”

“That’s what you’re taking away from this?”

“Okay, you need to calm down. First of all, it’s…” I grabbed for my phone on the night-table, but my hand found nothing. I looked over and saw that it was nowhere in sight. Jack cleared his throat and held it out for me to take. I snatched it away with a glare, checking the time.

“…8:15? Yeah, I’m calling that way too early to even  _ think  _ about waking up the average college student on a weekend. And why did you take my phone?”

“I don’t know, I thought maybe you’d call the police if you saw me here? I mean, take one look at me right now and say you wouldn’t.”

“You’re ridiculous. Besides, why would I do that the morning after I pretty much saved your life? A little counterproductive, wouldn’t you say? Don’t wait up.” I got up and walked into the bathroom, grabbed a washcloth, soaked it, and wrung it out before handing it to a fairly confused Jack who had trailed along after me.

“You…saved me?”

“Uh, yeah. Here. Clean up. I’m not touching any of  _ this  _ anymore than I need to,” I said, gesturing up and down at him. Any weird sense of gratitude he might have felt towards me faded from his features. He narrowed his eyelids.

“Rude.” He reluctantly took the cloth, then seemed to realize something with panic. “Wait, I wasn’t all there, was I?”

“If you mean intoxicated beyond belief, then yeah. Don’t wor—”

_ “Shit! _ I—did I hurt you? I must’ve, that’s what usually happens. You really shouldn’t have taken me in, you could’ve died! I mean, you probably deserved it, but—”

I laughed and reached for a tube of toothpaste on one of the higher shelves. “Relax, dumbass, you didn’t  _ do _ anything. Just climbed up to the second floor window and waited in my room, one limp, rag doll of a man. It was sad, really. You were like some drunk teen girl on cloud nine.” I tilted my head, examining myself in the mirror.  _ When was the last time I brushed my hair?  _ “Maybe I should give you a lollipop, for being such a good patient.”

There was a beat of silence, and he grabbed my arm to turn me so we were face-to-face. “I didn’t try to eat you? I didn’t hurt you, not at all?”

I narrowed my eyes. “No, not at all. But there’s no need to be so rude about it, don’t think I can’t reopen some of those wounds for you.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean,  _ why?  _ Because I can—”

“No, why didn’t I try to hurt you? Usually when that kind of thing happens, I turn into some desperate, ravenous animal. Don’t know what’s right and wrong, and even if I did, I don’t care.”

“So not much of a change, huh?” He opened his mouth to retort, but I cut him off. “I don’t know, man, maybe you knew how bad you were hurt and didn’t want to try your luck. Maybe you knew I’d help you, maybe you were planning to do something when I least expected it! Do you really think I know any more about this than you do?”

“You have to, I can barely remember  _ why  _ I was like that now! I don’t know the things I said, I don’t know how true or weird or disturbing they might’ve been. You’ve got to remember something that I don’t.”

I thought about it, and gave in to a tiny smile. “You said I seemed like I’d like needles.”

“Something  _ helpful _ .”

“You said I was your best friend. Oho, the soft side of Jack returns!” I said, attempting to get him in a chokehold. He dodged (barely) and grumbled to himself, eyelids twitching.

“Maybe trying to kill you wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”

“Gotta say, I like drunk-you a lot better than  _ you _ -you.” I huffed and crossed my arms. “If you’re going to be so grumpy about this, maybe you’re ready to leave.”

His face went through three whole stages of grief in a split second, and he grabbed my shoulders with a snarl. “No. No, I am  _ not  _ leaving. Just. Yet.”

“Dude, let go—”

“I can’t go back now, I don’t know if I ever will. They’ll  _ kill _ me, that’s what they’ll do, maybe something worse. I…” He seemed to realize what he was doing, stepped back, looked me up and down, and held up his hands with an uncertain expression. “…if I explain myself to you, can I stay?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Explain what, exactly? I thought you said you couldn’t remember anything—?”

“No, not that. I…well, for all I know, whatever happened  _ here  _ will come back to me later. But I do know what went on before I got—you know.”

“Stabbed, cursed, disfigured?”

“Whatever you want to call it, yeah. And I promise I’ll do my best to tell the truth. But you  _ will  _ let me stay here, just a little bit longer. Right?”

I considered it, then looked at the washcloth in his hand, still unused.

“Alright. Then maybe I can teach you how to be a functioning human being, and avoid ending up here next time altogether.” I started downstairs after a brief pause. “There isn’t going to  _ be  _ a next time, right…?”

“Hard to say.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

* * *

“Dude. Just choose one. Coffee or tea?”

“I  _ said  _ I don’t know what either is going to do to me, and I’m thinking about it!”

“Then pour yourself a glass of water or something! We don’t have all…okay, technically we do have all day.”

I sat down at the little kitchen table, holding my head and squeezing my eyes shut as I waited for my own cup of joe to cool down. Jack had seated himself right on the edge of the table like he owned the damn place, but I was too drowsy to complain about it right now. I’d probably just let him info-dump for the next hour or so and send him on his way. At the very least, we would have some quiet, pathetic excuse of a breakfast and leave each other alone. I breathed in the steam from my mug and sighed, gaze flickering his way.

“Alright. You’re here because you said you’d explain yourself. Well, the floor’s all yours, Jim.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“We’ll see. How about the… _ people  _ you were talking about earlier, or whatever they are. What got you so worked up?”

I knew from the way he winced that I’d struck a nerve, but oddly enough, he didn’t seem at all reluctant to talk.

“Oh, where to start. Uh, okay…” He tapped his knees, getting all nervous for some reason. “You know when your parents encourage you and want you to succeed, but it’s not really out of love? They’re just more interested in having a nice little diploma from you on their wall to look at?”

I couldn’t exactly say I related to that, but I knew what he meant. “Yeah.”

He sighed. “So, that’s kind of what pledging your body and soul to a demon is like.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t get me wrong, they’re all total jackasses. None of them could ever be my parents, not in a million years, but they help me. More or less. They keep me alive. It’s a pact, I just never really got a choice in the matter.”

“What’s that supposed to mean…?” I gave him the side-eye again, though I couldn’t exactly tell what was making me so suspicious of him now. “You were born into an occultist family who wouldn’t let you live out your pastel dreams, or something? That sounds like the plot to a bad movie.”

“Excuse you,  _ I  _ led a perfectly normal life up until…” he started counting on his fingers. “…Jesus, almost five years ago. No, that’s not important right now. The point is that I’m trapped in a deal. A deal I don’t even know the full extent of, and that means some pretty weird shit can happen.”

“Too vague,” I commented. He snapped his fingers in front of my face as if to get my attention, or just shut me up.

“I’m  _ getting to it.  _ One demon in particular—‘boss,’ I like to call him—he’s always on my case, trying to figure out what I’m doing and why I’m doing it, whether it benefits  _ him,  _ all that. If I’m not in line, he gets…well, mad. I’m used to it, but when it’s really bad, he’ll use some portion of his own energy to basically control me. It’s not like he’s in my body or at the controls of a ship, it’s more like he lets a little bit of evil in me take the helm for a while. Make all the carnage I was supposed to. Helps him get his money’s worth, you know?”

“He makes you kill people…just because he wants you to kill people,” I said disbelievingly. He shrugged.

“Yes and no. See, I still do what I want. He doesn’t let go of his little servants too easily, but all he really does to ‘punish’ them is make them go practically unhinged. Likes the chaos, I think. Wants to watch the world burn. So I’m free as a bird,” he said airily, but with a certain amount of dark irony. My head was spinning at all these contradictions.

“Okay, so  _ you  _ also just kill people for the hell of it. You don’t have any issues with that?”

“It’s called survival, Sawyer. A little catch to all this, written in the  _ finest  _ print at the bottom; there’s only so much I can eat. At least to sustain myself with. Human meat’s one of those things. Specifically, the organs. What, did you think I actually like the taste of it?” He raised a finger before I could give my honest answer. “Then technically you’d be right, but only because I got used to it after a while.”

I furrowed my eyebrows and tried to sort all this out.  _ Does he have free will or not? And why was he hurt so bad, if that “boss” demon can’t… _

“Okay, pump the brakes here. You still haven’t answered my question, what  _ happened  _ to you that you had to practically drag yourself to my house, and had all these gashes, and you were acting super weird, and—”

“Like I said. Stupid guy gets mad at me for whatever reason, decides I’m not doing good enough, lets my better judgement take the backseat for a while. It’s like all the anger and aggression and sadistic thoughts I have get concentrated into this tiny ball, and then it just explodes.”

“But…the blood? The wounds?! You just said that’s all he does, why were you such a mess when I saw you?”

“Oh. Uh, well…I kind of did that to myself, if I’m being honest.” He refused to look at me, as if I’d throttle him when he finally did. To be fair, I was thinking about it. This guy had the audacity to get himself to that mangled state, crawl into my home, act like a harmless drunk and get me to patch him up just like that?  _ I spent a good two hours on you, goddammit! And now I’m being told it was for nothing? _

“Jack, I’m not sure if words can convey how tired I am of your shit right now.”

“Look, it’s not that I want to! Honestly, I didn’t even know I was hurting myself at first, I guess when I lose it like that I search for ways to get him off my back. When I’m half-dead and lying on the ground, bleeding out, there’s not much he can make me do. And once he leaves me alone after that kind of…episode, I guess you could call it, my brain’s completely burned out. No filter whatsoever.” He shuddered the slightest bit. “And all that smoke…something’s definitely wrong. I haven’t seen that before—”

“Wait, you remember the smoke?”

“Of course. I always remember what happens if I think about it long enough. Some of last night started coming back to me about a minute ago. And, if I may be frank…” he said, turning to me with his head in one hand and a barely disguised smirk plastered on his face. “You were worried about me, weren’t you?”

_ That…bastard. _

“Ugh, this. I knew it, I knew you would say something—”

“Come on, just admit it! You were  _ so  _ scared to see me die, that little wall you put up, it’s all an act!”

I shot him a cold glare. “Sure. Tell yourself that, if it makes you feel any better.”

“I can safely say it does. Look, this is payback for all that ‘Jack has a heart’ bullshit you pulled with me, don’t think I’ve forgotten it!” Before I could start walking away, he grabbed my wrist and held up one finger.

“So I guess  _ you’re  _ just a big softie who’s getting her M.D. in three years’ time.”

I paused, all of the frustration and annoyance bubbling in my chest having been drowned out by some new feeling. Hope, surprise? I looked at his face for traces of sarcasm or malice. Nothing.

“…you think I’m going to get it?”

“You dealt with me. Why not?”

As I grappled for some kind of normal response to that, my undying desire to win _ at all costs _ got the better of me.

“Well—hey, you’re the one who kept getting all chummy with me while you were high on whatever that stuff was. And you said you were doing it because you thought you were going to die, you thought you’d never see me again!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Did I really say that was why? Or is it just what you told yourself afterwards?”

I spent the next couple of seconds wondering how fast I could undo his stitches, eventually coming to the conclusion that a good old-fashioned shove off the table would do.

“Oh, that is  _ it!”  _ I said, hugging my knees after the deed had been done and shooing him away. “About time you got out of my house, anyway. Go on! Scram!”

_ “Scram? _ What are you, some ‘70’s street gang leader?” Jack scoffed, rubbing his head. He’d hit the floor a lot harder than I intended him to, but that shouldn’t have made my message any less clear. I stuck my tongue out at him as he stood back up.

“I might as well be,” I answered vaguely. To tell the truth,  _ I  _ didn’t even know what I meant by that. He frowned, and not in a teasing way anymore.

“So this is what you’re going to be like with all your little future patients? ‘Get out of my office, you’re fine!’” He waved his hands in the air, mimicking me, and I could’ve sworn that if he still had eyes he would be rolling them right now. I stood up and started pushing him towards the front door.

“This is so, so,  _ so _ different, and you know that. Get that weird, redhead disguise of yours ready, because you’re leaving whether you like it…or… _ not!” _ I said through clenched teeth, pushing with all my remaining strength while Jack stood adamantly in place.

“Come on! Can’t I just stay here for, like, one more day? Besides, I don’t even think I  _ can _ get it ready, for all I know those demons have abandoned me!”

“I still have to clean this place, are you blind?!”

“Uh, yeah, I am! And I could help you with that!”

I stopped pushing out of surprise, but didn’t move from my spot. I looked at him through narrowed eyes, remembering exactly who I was dealing with here.

“…Jack.”

“What? Is that so out there that I wa—”

“You’re kind of a monster. Don’t forget it.”

_ Oh, boy, I could’ve phrased  _ that _ a lot nicer. _ He almost looked shocked himself, and I felt a pang of guilt.

_ No, no, why do  _ I  _ feel guilty?! He’s a dangerous cannibal who made some eternal pact with a demon, he threatened to kill me multiple times, and I’m just supposed to let him stay in my house because he’s scared? _

There was a sobered pause. Eventually, I took his hand with a sigh.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I would have added, “I can’t believe how bad you are at that alone,” but now clearly wasn’t the time to beat him down even more.  _ I’m a healer, for Christ’s sake. _


	8. I Have Never Wanted To Be Normal More In My Life

He asked me to wait outside, which I took to mean stand right by the bathroom with the door a centimeter open just in case the shower water burned him. I mean, he  _ was  _ half-demon, or something. I still wasn’t quite sure how this all worked, but that didn’t stop me from assuming my head off. I was relieved he didn’t make any weird noises that echoed around the room, clueing me into every little thing he was doing there. I heard the occasional coughing fit and then a disgusting  _ splat  _ on the floor, hoping endlessly that whatever came up would wash away with the water.

The shower stopped after about 20 minutes and I was snapped awake by the sound of the curtain practically being thrown open. I had a feeling it was about to come off the hangers. There was some scuffling around, followed by a soft, “Holy shit, there are  _ towels  _ here.” I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing.

Once I was sure he’d covered himself properly, a horrible, stupid idea crossed my mind, and I couldn’t get it out.

The door was still open, just a crack.

So I looked.

No, “looked” is an overstatement. I caught glimpses as he paced around the floor, not sure what to do with himself now. By several pauses held in the same place, I could tell he was looking at himself in the mirror. Multiple times. I winced a little before realizing that people actually did that. Just…looked at themselves, and didn’t feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. For me, I had to focus very hard on something I was in control of; my hair, my nails, how  _ this  _ shirt went with  _ that  _ outfit. It had become second nature. But Jack was probably looking at himself just to look. Maybe to see what it was like not to be covered in dirt and blood all the time. Maybe he loved himself a little too much. Maybe he’d forgotten his own face. The thought of it made my heart ache.  _ I’m kind of a bitch, yeah, but I’ll be damned if I don’t end up feeling bad for every new person I meet. There’s always something there. Even if it’s all in my head. _

I eventually remembered what I was supposed to be doing (partaking in  _ purely scientific  _ research, of course) and focused again. This time he was sitting on the edge of the tub, towel around his waist, grumbling to himself like always. I caught a few words, such as “bullshit” and “clean” and “wait,” but I was mainly just looking at his figure. Not in any gross way, excuse you, I was  _ curious _ . And I can safely say that all of the breaking into people's houses and mauling them to death certainly paid off; he had muscle. He was still kind of skinny, and I knew once he put that hoodie back on it would all disappear, but…

He stood up and I almost fell away from the door with a jolt of surprise. After a terrifying moment of silence, he called, “Are you still there?”

I collected myself and leaned back against the wall, trying to clear out my voice. I hadn’t talked in a while, and I knew something was bound to go south if I just started again without any preparation. “U-um. Yeah. Waiting for  _ you,  _ dumbass. You know you could’ve just come out when you were ready…”

“I am ready. Can you pass me my clothes?”

He was referring to the damp pile on the floor next to me, his hoodie and pants which I’d washed but not dried. Apparently, they would “do that on their own” and we’d be wasting time if he had to wait in my house, practically naked, for them to be ready. I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Yeah, about that…you sure you don’t want me to run these through the dryer? Like, not even a couple minutes?”

“I’m  _ sure.  _ Can you pass them?”

“Fine.”

He opened the door about halfway, hiding most of his body behind it and reaching out to take the mildew garden himself. I handed him the items one by one, but startled myself by looking up and realizing he still had all those stitches in his arm—really, everywhere. There was still dry blood practically glued to his skin that I had struggled to peel off before, remnants of the black smoke that ended up manifesting themselves as more tar, the sharp, jagged cuts in his skin that had been so hurriedly closed up…

_ Cuts he made himself. _

“Uh, are you good?”

I snapped back to reality and nodded hastily. “Yeah, yeah, I-I just remembered that you…nevermind.” I tossed his poor rag of a shirt into the bathroom and shut the door the instant he retracted his arm. “Now hurry up so I can go back to living the happy, normal, stressed-filled med student experience.”

He definitely took his sweet time in there, almost as if trying to spite me. I didn’t let my impatience get the better of me, regardless of how many times I was tempted to snap at him from outside. Finally, he came out, fully dressed and dripping from his sleeves, nose, hair, even  _ ears _ . I raised an eyebrow, impressed.

“All that time testing my patience, and they still haven’t dried by themselves?”

“Don’t,” he grumbled, taking one step onto the hardwood floor and looking regretful. “Better staying like this than…well, you know.”

“No, actually, I don’t know. Explain your hidden genius.”

“Look, I’m really pushing it with all this business at your house. It’d be a nice little getaway from real life, I’m sure, but if my boss starts looking around or god forbid  _ sees _ me here then we’re both fucked.”

“Aren’t you the one who was begging me to let you stay here another day?”

“Yeah, and that was delusional. Just a nice thought, my head’s totally clear now, I’d better get going.”

I usually would’ve loved hearing something like that from him. But right now, I couldn’t help but mutter, “Oh,” with a thin trace of disappointment. For once, he wasn’t being so much of an inconvenience, aside from all the mess; he’d even offered to help clean the place.  _ Maybe that was “delusional” of him, too. _

“Yeah, yeah. Save your whoop of joy, just tell me which door I should leave through,” he said, wiping a drop of tar off his face and wringing out a small portion of his sleeve. “Jesus. If I’d known he was going to do  _ this  _ to me, maybe I would’ve just stayed in the realm yesterday.”

My curiosity had been reignited. I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Hold on, I thought you were used to all that. Didn’t you say—”

“Yeah, I am, but this is different. Something’s changing, it’s like…” he clenched his teeth as if to keep himself from saying the demon’s name. “… _ he’s  _ using more energy, trying to be harder on me, making me even more dangerous than before. You know, on second thought, it’s probably because of you.”

I would have faked offense at that if it hadn’t actually offended me. “Wh— _ I  _ haven’t done anything to you or your ‘boss,’ how can this—?!”

“Because I let you go! I got soft, I didn’t want to fight anymore than I had to. And now he’s pissed at me because you’re still alive.” He took a breath and rubbed his forehead. “Look. I’m worried, okay? You shouldn’t be caught up in all this in the first place. At least you’ll be going away for a couple days soon.”

My eyes grew wide with outrage. “What did you…how do you know that?”

“I took your phone for a few minutes this morning, remember? Don’t get all worked up, I only saw a text from your mom. Something about a family reunion over the break, right?”

I had to take a second and convince myself that punching him in the stomach right now was  _ not _ worth it. My eyebrows knit, and the space between my chest and throat was on fire. “I need to start locking all my doors and windows while you’re around, don’t I?”

“Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t do anything!”

“You will.”

“No, I won’t! I swear! Here—” He held out his pinkie with a completely straight face. No shame whatsoever. “I promise I won’t follow you there,  _ or  _ snoop around your house when you’re gone. It’ll be better for both of us, anyway. I’ll say you finally kicked the bucket, old boss will forget about everything, and we can even still hang out afterwards.”

My hand stayed fixed by my side.  _ “Hang out?  _ Do you seriously think all of this makes us friends? I helped you out because I felt sorry for you, that’s it!”

“Are you taking my promise or not?”

I suddenly felt like a child for that mini-outburst. I sighed and raised my hand, linking our pinkies for a brief, embarrassing moment.

“You won’t follow me anywhere. Not for half the trip there, not while I’m heading back. You won’t look through my stuff, and God forbid you do, you won’t touch a thing. Okay?”

He nodded solemnly, and I almost laughed at how seriously he was taking this.

_ Exactly how mad does he think I am…? _

“Now can you leave me alone? At least until I come back from break. I never signed up to be your personal maid, anyway.”

“Gladly.”

* * *

Taking the train to my parents’ house was a lot less fun than I remembered it being. I kept one eye open for most of the trip, with the strange, hallucinatory encounter on the bus back from Sean’s house playing in my head like a broken record. Luckily, no spawn of Satan in disguise came to harass me this time, at least not that I knew of. I fogged up the window with my breath, wondering how badly my extended family was suffering right now due to the cold. Few to none of them had experienced temperatures below fifty degrees before.

I stepped out onto the platform with my bags in tow, shielding my face from the brisk winter air. My nose already felt as if a thin layer of ice was pinching it in place as I forced one foot in front of the other towards the main street. I’d already told my mom I was going to be late, though instead of response I was sent a fresh, telepathic wave of motherly disapproval. Mentally preparing myself for the clamoring of voices I would face once inside, I took a deep breath and opened the back door.

A sea of amber, red, yellow, and green greeted me at the kitchen. It looked as if everybody had abandoned it hours ago in favor of the rest of the first floor. Poinsettia pots had been squeezed in next to each other on the windowsill. I took my gloves off and rubbed life back into my frozen hands, resting an elbow on the back of a chair.

“…I’m home.”

No luck. People in the living room had to shout over each other to be heard in conversation. I sniffed, my face still thawing, and dragged my luggage to the dining room where my mother had stationed herself, testing out a thin layer of broth in silence. Always one to get to the point, she tapped her spoon on the edge of the pan and sighed with relief as I came into her view.

“Ah, Sawyer! It’s a good thing you’re here, you have to talk Tío Agosto out of singing the national anthem again. Idiot’s already had too much to drink.” She smiled and hugged me tightly as if I’d just come back from war. In a way, I kind of had. When we broke apart, she patted me on the shoulder and waved her finger in a circle around the room. “Go on, greet everyone first! You’ve been away for a very long time.”

I didn’t have the energy to complain. Besides, this was one of the few times a year I was able to see my family and get away from all this school nonsense. I knew I’d get a more heartfelt welcome from Dad, anyway. I hoisted my suitcase over the little bump lining the dining room’s doorway, as if crossing a grand threshold. “Yeah. One second. Is there anywhere I can put my things? I don’t want them to get in the way…”

“Nobody is going upstairs until they say hello,” Mom singsonged. I repeatedly clicked the button on my rolling case’s handle in annoyance.

“I’m not trying to—ugh, fine. I’ll leave it all here to clog up the doorway.” As I walked away, no more a spring in my step than there was before, she called softly, “We missed you!”

I tried standing on my tiptoes to see over everybody’s heads and map out a path for myself, but groups kept clumping together and dispersing rapidly like the life cycle of a few hundred stars. Except  _ these _ stars didn’t seem too interested in leaving any space between each other; ahead of me was an impenetrable wall of chattering relatives. Several gasped and pointed to their hair as I walked by, likely in an attempt to say  _ I realize you got a haircut but I don’t want to say anything mean about it. _

“So, this guy, Trump…”

“Please, Victoria, we promised not to talk about this—”

Tía Vicky was sent into a coughing fit, successfully cutting off her brother and continuing as if she hadn’t heard him. “A-all I’m saying is, if they hired enough people to assassinate ‘em—!”

“Maybe you could show us that new project of yours?” One of my uncles folded his hands, smiling, in a desperate attempt to steer her off track. Her eyes glazed over after a moment, and without a word she reached into her purse and pulled out a stuffed bear with a marine’s hat crappily sewn onto its head. She turned to me as I passed by and, without even acknowledging the fact that I’d just gotten here, held out the bear and said in a flat voice, “Tómalo.”

I blinked and gently pushed the poor thing back in her direction. “Uh…no thanks.”

She narrowed her eyes and nodded wisely. “Yes. You’re right. Only when you’re ready.”

_ I’m not even going to ask. _

So far, everybody but the people I could  _ really  _ talk to had fallen into my field of vision. All that were around were distant or estranged relatives, nobody I knew well enough to have more than a minute-long conversation. The first floor held only uncles, aunts, grandparents, kids, my cousin Javier…

_ Bingo. _

Javier was from the Spanish side of my family—or rather, the Spanish  _ speaking _ side. They were from some Latin-American country but for whatever reason I never bothered to ask which one. Somebody here probably would’ve known, anyway. My mother always called his immediate family the Hispanoles, which is what stuck with most of us. Javi barely knew any Tagalog, so if we wanted to talk in another language, I would have to use my subpar understanding of Spanish for any hope of communication.

“Hey, Javi-boy,” I said, tapping his shoulder and giving him a pinch on the spot. He groaned and turned around, folding his arms.

“And  _ that’s  _ what I was missing. Sawyer, you really couldn’t have bothered anyone else here some more?”

“Aw, don’t act like you’re not happy to see me.”

Eventually, a smile broke through on his face, and he hugged me with all the awkwardness you could get from a cousin. “I see you cut your hair,” he began once we broke apart.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said about it.”

He frowned. “Really? Where are the others, I’ll teach them a lesson.”

Whether he intended it to be a joke or not, I had to hold back laughter. Javier was about as buff as a piece of uncooked spaghetti.

“Well, Morgan called me a Filipina Dora, but I’d better not see you doing anything about it. I can fight my own battles.”

He chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry,  _ that  _ one’s well deserved. ‘Filipina Dora,’” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. “It does look good, though. Just don’t mat it up or anything, mom will have a fit.”

_ Mom.  _ Otherwise known as Tía Freyja, or my more extravagant aunt. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten her. “Where is she, anyway? Hasn’t made her grand entrance yet?”

As if by strategy, my tía pushed her way through the solid wall of people behind Javier and held out her arms with the brightest of smiles.

“My  _ guapo _ Samuelito, ¿cómo estás? How  _ are  _ you?” Without a second to waste she had pulled me in and I was trapped, left to wonder what would be a good time to correct her on my name. I knew by the way Javi wordlessly opened his mouth that he was thinking about doing it himself. We both waited the hug out. It was a nice one, anyway.

“I’m doing good, tía,” I muttered, brushing myself off once she’d gotten her share of affection from me. She pouted at the gesture.

“Samuel, you brush me off like this after I haven’t seen you for two years? Where is my love?”

Javi sighed and gently pat her on the back. “Mami, it’s  _ Sawyer. _ ”

Freyja shook her head and scoffed, swatting his hand off her. “¡Ay, sabes que no puedo recordarlo, mijo!”

“Sí, yo sé.” He widened his eyes at me exasperatedly, like,  _ can you believe it? _ and I smiled despite that.

“Don’t worry, tía, you’re not in trouble—”

“Yes, yes, I know, I am never in trouble.” She flashed a grin and stood on her tiptoes to give me a kiss on both cheeks. I held up one finger before she could force me to do the same.

“But it  _ is _ Sawyer. Got it?”

“Yes, mi amor, I remember you are…cómo se dice, tran-gender?”

_ Eh. Close enough. _

“How’s Javi been, anyway? He hasn’t told me all about his life yet, I think he’s embarrassed,” I said, changing the subject and throwing Javier a knowing look. He closed his eyes and folded his arms again like he was never going to hear the end of it, while Freyja’s face lit up.

“Oh, my dear boy had been very good. He just got a job at a…studio-art, yes?” She said with an even brighter smile. Javi was having none of this.

“Mamá, I thought you said working there was a waste of time.”

“But not a waste of money! As long as you’re happy, mijo—he gets to work with kids, you know that, Sawyer? Such little darlings, he teaches them how to paint.”

“I help somebody else  _ get _ the paint so  _ she  _ can teach them.”

Freyja waved her hands in the air as if to say,  _ bah! _ “Okay, okay. I won’t bother you about this. Are you ashamed, Javi?”

“I don’t appreciate you being ready to spill every detail of my life at the drop of a hat!”

I was tempted to roll my eyes. “Don’t be such a drama queen, it’s only your job. You’ll live,” I said, patting him on the shoulder and waving them both goodbye as I continued to make my way around the room.

_ “Rule, Britannia, Britannia rule the—” _

I heard my dad’s annoyed drawl cut off Agosto from across the house. “Hombre, that’s not even the right country! We are getting you to a bathroom…”

* * *

We all tolerated each other for the rest of the evening. Dinner was a fantastic mess, as always, though nobody seemed to care all that much. I’d forgotten how cathartic it felt to be around my family, especially the louder ones, ever since I moved out and stopped attending every little event my parents held here. Not even my grandparents’ talk of Heaven, Earth, and Christ managed to remind me of everything going on back on campus—after all, I only believed in a Hell at this point. There was at least one awkward question concerning me every five minutes, whether it be about my gender, my health (still somewhat related to gender, based on who was asking) or my career. I didn’t mind all that much this time. And in the rare case that I did, one of my cousins would swoop in to change the subject before anything hurtful was said.

Javier, Freyja, Agosto, and a few others were staying the night while everybody else went back home. There were tearful goodbyes, some almost too much to stomach this late. I decided I was ready to go to bed when my great-uncle—Eduardo, I believe his name was—started waving a red handkerchief and yelling at the top of his voice, his glasses clouding up in mere seconds.

“Goodbye, Rafaeles! Adiós, arrivederci, best of luck to—”

“¡Dios mio! Let’s  _ go,  _ Eddie, you can just call them later…” His wife pushed him with little sympathy towards their car across the street, not bothering to look back. I leaned against the doorway, already in PJs, and gave the lot one last tired wave before heading up.

_ The nations, not so blest as thee, _

_ Must in their turn, to tyrants fall… _

At the realization of what I was thinking about in a half-drunken stupor, I groaned aloud.  _ Oh, goddammit, he got that song stuck in my head. How does that even happen? It was, like, two seconds! _

Opposite to what I expected, I wasn’t able to fall asleep so easily in my old room. Somehow, I was having an even harder time closing my eyes. I visited this place every year, I should’ve grown used to it by now. But…

_ God, it smells so weird in here. _

I sat up in bed, my eyebrows knitting together and hands gripping the covers tightly.

_ That’s not normal. _

“Mami, what did you do to my—”

I was cut off by a soft but sickening cough coming from down the hall. It was like somebody choking on water. It didn’t sound like my mom, it didn’t sound like Javi…it did  _ not _ sound like Tía Freyja.

My bare feet touched the hardwood floor, freezing in place as I craned my neck and tried to catch something else with my ears. Maybe a door creaking open, somebody stepping out to get a towel or a midnight snack. Anything to explain what I’d just heard. For five minutes, I came up empty. I shivered and slowly approached a chair in the corner of my room, blinking several times to adjust my eyes to the dark, and grabbed a sweater I’d thrown over it earlier.  _ Should’ve known better than to go to bed in just a t-shirt and pajama pants. _

“Hey, is anybody up?” I wrapped the sweater around my shoulders like a shawl, lacking the commitment to put it on fully. I got very shaky all of a sudden and couldn’t place why; the cold didn’t have much to do with it. I just had this horrible feeling about what might be going on. As usual. My hand fumbled around for a flashlight, or candle, or maybe just a desk to help me navigate my way towards the door. Nobody answered me until I stepped out into the hallway. Everything was black and blue, as night usually is. The answer I did get was slow, quiet, raspy, and scraped my spine like it was a piece of wood to whittle.

_ “No…body…lying.” _

And then another cough. This time it was loud. I was sure—what the hell, I was  _ hoping _ that somebody else had woken up from it and would check out this creepy bullshit for me. But for another minute, nobody stirred. Nobody spoke. My heart was beating out of my chest, and I clenched the corners of my sweater as I took another few steps forward.

_ “Such a good…never will know, never remember, never want to…” _

Something about that voice was terrifyingly familiar. I stopped dead, causing the floorboards to creak under my weight. I expected some sort of creature to jump out from the shadows of the hall and attack me, right then and there, but the entire house became still again.

The voice was coming from my tía’s room.

_ Wait, what if that really  _ is  _ her? Is she sick? Did something happen just now, while I was trying to fall asleep? _

I held my breath and started walking again, and quickly. Might as well have gotten it over with. I sharply withdrew my hand from the doorknob when I felt how cold it was, but told myself to  _ suck it up _ and prepared to open the door.

“Freyja?” I asked in the tiniest whisper my voice would allow. All I heard from the other side was heavy breathing and a soft  _ snap. _ My heart jumped into my throat at the sound.

_ Nothing’s happening, you big wimp, somebody probably just got cold medicine from downstairs and they’re opening the bottle. It’s definitely Agosto. He really should lay off the alcohol this time of year— _

My thoughts screeched to a halt when I opened the door and took in the scene before me.

Dark, opaque liquid was the first thing I saw. The body crouched over her bed was the second, and Freyja herself was the third. This person, this creature, this  _ thing  _ that was scraping at whatever lied before it, was practically choking down all the air it could take in; it wheezed and coughed and spat everything up again. The room smelled awful, like some combination of dry saliva and sewage and rum and  _ blood _ . I started to gag.

My aunt was dead.

A boy I knew was eating her guts.

Nothing moved but my eyes, which were ricocheting around the room. Tens, hundreds of scratches covered the windowsill, blood soaked the sheets in front of her killer and dripped to the floor below.

_ No, no no no, this can’t be happening. He can’t have  _ followed  _ me, that would mean…! _

Jack looked up, mouth dripping, claws out, his eye sockets more hollow than I’d ever seen them. There was nothing there; no remorse, no surprise, not even a trace of sadistic pleasure. This was survival to him. It always had been. And I’d been stupid enough to think he was stretching the truth.

He simply acknowledged me walking into the room, like he was saying hello for the first time. His eyelids narrowed in some strange attempt to recognize me—or maybe he knew how disappointed I was in him, though “disappointed” sure was a kind word for the wave of nausea and horror that was crashing over me right now.

“Sorry, Sawyer,” he said, the blood in his mouth causing the words to slur together. “I was hungry.”


	9. I Get an Explanation, But Not My Aunt Back

I sank to my knees as he shuffled into the hallway, grazing my arm with a single claw as he passed by. I couldn’t tell for the life of me whether he did it on purpose. I didn’t want to care. I heard a loud crash from another room followed by the sound of shattering glass, and knew he’d broken a window for whatever reason. He could have just left through the one he came in; maybe he liked to leave a trail for people to find him. Maybe it was his way of taunting the police. Maybe he’d just gone completely insane.

_ But if he’s insane, why did he remember me? _

I kept closing my eyes and opening them again, hoping that eventually this would all disappear, that I’d be greeted with a snoring aunt Freyja and no traces of Jack to be found. I would rather have been hallucinating—better yet, dreaming—than have to deal with something like this. No luck.

_ No. No. Shut up, shut up, this isn’t happening, he hasn’t done a thing and I’m crazy and I wish I was  _ dead _ and— _

Before I could stop and think about anything else, I shut my eyes and screamed at the top of my lungs.

* * *

The date had been set for exactly a month later. My least sensitive professor, God bless her soul, had the nerve to tell me this should’ve made me even more determined to become a medical professional. She gave me a pat on the shoulder that I didn’t ask for and one final “get to work” that nearly sent me over the edge.

_ Right. This’ll make me more determined to get a job, and definitely not to punch anyone who so much as  _ looks  _ at me in the face. _

I could tell most of my professors were secretly disappointed that I’d be absent for a whole week right after winter break, but of course they didn’t say it out loud. I almost wished one of them would; the one thing I wanted right now was honesty. Not that bare-minimum “comfort” bullshit Dr. Johnson was trying.

If classes were hard to count before, now they were just blurring together in one big monotonous pile of sludge. I lost track of how many times I had to step out because somebody asked a question relating to blood salinity, or what happens when a patient doesn’t make it—hell, I almost broke down once because the person next to me mentioned rabies. I tried my best to hide it, and I’m sure I did a good enough job. At least, no one said anything about it. It’s a wonder I was able to remember much at all. Everything else passed in the blink of an eye but somehow seemed to go so much slower at the same time. It threw me for a loop in too many ways when I realized January was coming to a close.

_ It should’ve ended sooner. Or…it shouldn’t be ending yet at all? _

I nearly stuffed my fist into my mouth to keep myself from yelling something stupid. It was the middle of the day, but I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed. I was able to get away with it right now; I had no more classes until tomorrow. My covers had been lazily draped over my body, my pillow having become a sort of glorified sponge for all the tears I’d cried lately. I was shaking all over. Sleep had become an unattainable goal ever since that night, even a couple seconds of shut-eye felt like empty victory.

Just over three months ago, I was blissfully ignorant to all of this. If I’d slept somewhere different the night we met, maybe if I had gone out with some friends before the school year began, this wouldn’t have happened. At the very least, Freyja’s killer would’ve been a mystery, some faceless silhouette that I could direct every bit of my anger towards, some inhuman thing I knew I would never see again.

But I’d met him.

I was starting to  _ like  _ him.

If Freyja had died of natural causes, maybe even murdered by a regular person some hundred miles from the rest of us, I wouldn’t feel this way. If she had died just like that, from old age or disease or organ failure, I wouldn’t be tossing and turning at night, coming up with excuses for somebody I never should have trusted. I wouldn’t be peering out my window, waiting for the next awful thing to happen, wondering if he even had the nerve to try talking to me again. Wondering if one day he would snap and finally kill  _ me,  _ once and for all.

_ But he wouldn’t. _

How can you be sure of that?

_ Because I know him! _

You mean you  _ knew _ him. He’s a monster. You just don’t want to admit it.

_ Why…why would he do something like this? To torture me? Everything was fine, and he had to go and— _

“Knock knock.”

I jumped and backed up in bed, holding my covers to my chest and reaching for the nearest object that could count as a weapon. Jack raised his eyebrows, mask up, and pinched the lead of the mechanical pencil I was pointing at him, gently pulling it from my hand. I didn’t take my eyes off him.

“You,” I said hoarsely. He blinked.

“Yeah. Me. So I take it you don’t have a couple minutes—”

“Get back.”

“Excuse me?”

“Get  _ back _ .” I stood up and backed against the wall, shifting further away from him with every step. He folded his arms, face reading pure confusion.

“Uh, is this some sort of trap?”

“Why are you here? Weren’t you busy making someone else’s life a nightmare?” I asked scathingly. In truth, I was more unnerved that he was acting so oblivious to it now. If what had happened weeks ago didn’t bother him, what could?

He scoffed. “Wow. Okay, no problem, I just thought that maybe we were becoming  _ friends _ . What did I ever…” his eyebrows knit as he seemed to notice my genuine anger. “Are you okay? Did…did I say something wrong?”

“So you don’t even care enough to remember,” I blurted, unable to sort this all out in my head. He had spoken to me like he was completely in his right mind, eating my aunt’s guts and covered in blood, but conveniently forgets that he murdered somebody in my family when he wants to talk?

He was starting to get annoyed. “Remember  _ what?  _ Was there something I—”

“Why did you follow me to my parents’ house, anyway? Why did you break your promise, what was  _ so  _ important that it needed to be right then and there?” I scoffed despite myself. “You know, I was an idiot to trust you. You can put on that red-haired disguise and pretend you’re human all you want, but you’re not.”

“Is this about your aunt? Because I swear that…”

He trailed off again, another look of confusion and then one of horror dawning on his face.

“I wasn’t…no, I said I wouldn’t do anything, I told myself…” he held his head as if trying to remember, running a nervous hand through his hair. “Why can’t I—holy shit, I  _ killed _ her?!”

“Looks like we’re on the same page now,” I said, eyes narrowed, unable to keep any bitterness from leaking into my voice. “You really didn’t know?”

“Sawyer, you have to believe me, I’m sorry, I was just—”

“Yeah, yeah, all that,” I dismissed him, though I was relieved that he at least felt bad. If it showed in my voice, he wasn’t picking it up. “I’m a little more interested in what the hell happened between you being…well, a ‘ravenous animal’—your words, not mine—waking back up and thinking,  _ well, no need to check out why I’m covered in somebody else’s blood next to my human acquaintance’s house!” _

“Why are you so set on acting like I know any more about this than you do?! Obviously, I’ve been kind of in the dark about all this weird consciousness-switch, demon-possession stuff for a while now—”

“Because you  _ do  _ know more than me, you’re the one who it’s happening to! Can’t you strike up a chat with one of your patrons, or whatever, say,  _ ‘hello, I was wondering what the actual fuck has been happening to me every time you get mad,’ _ and they’d be more than happy to answer?”

“You really, really don’t know how any of this works.”

“Oh, so now you’re able to shed some light on the situation—”

“All I know is that I didn’t mean for this to happen! I’m  _ sorry!  _ You’re my only real friend at this point, and if I’d been sane at all, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near you or your family! Can you at least take that?!”

The tears were starting to build back up, and I squeezed my eyes shut to keep them at bay. It didn’t work as well as I’d hoped. “If you’d been sane at all…you shouldn’t have  _ followed  _ me, like you said you wouldn’t. I don’t know why you think we’re friends, because…” I trailed off, unsure why I couldn’t just say it.  _ I could absolutely tear him apart right now. I don’t need him; in fact, my life would be so much easier without him. So why can’t I just tell the truth?! _

His hand was on the mask, and it seemed he was thinking of putting it back on and leaving right then. “…because we’re not. Is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, not feeling very sorry at all, “but you killed my aunt. You followed me and almost my entire  _ family _ when I told you not to. You’re ruining my life a tiny bit more every time you show up here, or at that park, or wherever you feel like. I-I know you don’t have a whole lot of other people you can trust, but why  _ me? _ What were you even going to do before you went crazy? Why did you have to be there?” I knew I was going to start crying; I could feel my little emotional dam crack more with every word. If I wasn’t done with him before, I sure as hell was now. Jack reached out for a split second but then retracted his hand. At least he knew not to touch me.

“Sawyer, trust me, I’m—”

“I know you are. And that really changes a lot, doesn’t it?”

“If you would just—”

“I gave you one job, and it was to stay away from me for a  _ week! _ How hard could it have been?!”

“I had no choice, Chernobog wouldn’t believe me!”

He clamped a hand over his mouth, eyelids stretching wide open. My tears were temporarily held off.

“…Chernobog?”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he whispered, mouth still covered. I couldn’t tell if he was looking down or to the side or straight at me; I felt that maybe it was better if I didn’t know. I would have taken a whole minute more trying to figure out why his gaze landed wherever it did. Either way, he looked like he’d just watched me age to 100 and die in a split second.

“That should’ve stayed in my head,” he continued. “I…okay, forget I said anything. You’re mad at me, obviously you don’t want to see me again, so I think I’ll just head out—”

“No,” I said without thinking. He gave me a look between surprise, terror, and utter confusion. I grappled for a reason or an excuse the moment my brain came back from its one-second vacation.

“You can’t leave now, I…you need to explain yourself. I still don’t have an answer as to why you followed me, I don’t know what you mean by  _ whatever you said _ not believing you—”

“Please, I really think you’re right, things would be better if we just forgot about each other. I don’t blame you if you hate me, I’d hate me too.”

“Cherno… _ Chernobog?  _ Is that what your boss is called?” I let out an ironic hoot of laughter. “You really are messing with come occult shit, aren’t you? I guess Darla was more right than she thought. Well, he definitely  _ sounds  _ like a demon, I’ll give him that.”

“Sawyer!”

Jack’s face was now a dark, washed-out shade of purple, and his skin looked like it was on the verge of splitting at the seams, or flaking off, or something gross like that. I was caught off guard by how mortified he looked; it was like I’d just talked smack about his own god. Maybe that’s what the demon was to him, in a twisted, spite-filled way.

“If you keep talking, we are going to be in very. Big. Trouble,” he said through his teeth, as if he was scolding a child. I crossed my arms and glared at him, embracing my role.

“Enlighten me, then, if you want me to shut up so bad. Oh, better yet,  _ make _ me! I think I have the right to get you in as much trouble as I want.”

“I said  _ we  _ are going to be in big trouble,  _ we!  _ Now stop talking and sit down, I’ll explain it to you.” He hunched his shoulders and pressed a hand to his forehead. His eyebrows were about to fuse into one, a sight I did not want to behold anytime soon. I scoffed and reluctantly did as he said, while he fidgeted and rubbed his hands together like a nerve-shot raccoon.

“I really was going to stay away from you. You know that, right?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure I know anything anymore. Just tell me what happened, it’s not that hard.”

“It kind of is, actually! I went real far for that stupid little pinkie-promise, I made a  _ plan  _ for what I was going to do every day you were gone and then some. I had to convince my boss that you were really dead, it meant I couldn’t even think about you while he was around. And it’s not like he’d be suspicious if you happened to cross my mind every now and then—honestly, I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m in love with you, or something.”

I snickered at the idea.  _ Are all demons that stupid? _

“Ridiculous, right?” Jack said, sounding more frustrated than amused. “But I go to him that day and say,  _ hey, I finally killed that human you wanted, _ and he’s just not buying it. Keeps saying, ‘you shouldn’t lie to me,’ and ‘I’m above you, you should know your place,’ all that bullshit he usually throws around. I-I tried to convince him, I really did, but he wasn’t budging. He kept telling me I had to kill you for real. For good.” He turned his head, gulped, and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“So I went to go find you. I thought if I didn’t head off myself, boss was going to finish the job for me. He rarely does it, but…rarely doesn’t mean never. I thought maybe this was one of those times where he might actually…” he shook his head and cleared his throat to get rid of the breaking in his voice. “A-anyway, I figured I’d just stick around and not really do anything. Just make sure nothing happens, tell you everything later, I wasn’t even going to walk on your parents’ lawn. But then I started getting hungry, and he noticed, and he made me…I-I thought I fought back, I thought nothing was going to happen, that he’d left me alone after all of it. And it only came back to me when you said I followed you.”

He stayed quiet for a good minute, then sat down next to me with his head in a hand. He was pissed off, no doubt. But he also looked scared. Not specifically for me, or specifically for him, or anything. He just  _ was _ . I blinked once and stared at the floor.

“…so that’s it. You weren’t going to hit me with any important news, you weren’t going to tell me somebody I knew was horribly injured, or anything. You just stalked me and said nothing?”

“I was trying to keep you safe! Don’t make me start to regret it now,” he hissed, all of the anxiety and sorrow in his voice gone within the second. Now we were both really damn bitter. I gripped the bedsheets and stood my ground.

“I think you should regret it. If you hadn’t had that sudden stroke of  _ genius _ that led you to my parents’ house, Freyja would still be alive. You know it’s true.”

“So what if I know?! What do you think would have happened if I didn’t do anything? For all I know, you could be dead!”

“I don’t need you to protect me from  _ your  _ boss! Maybe now he wants to kill me even more, huh? Maybe your bright idea didn’t work as well as you thought—”

“I didn’t want to live without you.”

All the words I’d been thinking to say in response to him, no matter what he said, barely reached my tongue in time. His expression was completely disarming. He was glaring at me, but it seemed he couldn’t find it in himself to hate me. His face was stony and defensive, but somehow vulnerable at the same time. I couldn’t respond for a good minute; and that was before I began to process what he’d even said.

“I’m asking you to take an apology,” he said in an impossibly soft voice once the dust had settled. “That doesn’t mean you have to be happy about it. It doesn’t mean you have to forgive me. If you don’t want to see my face ever again, I’ll go away.” He looked up, and for once I could tell his gaze wasn’t fixed on me. “I tried to protect you. I guess I failed, in one way or another. But I tried. There’s your explanation.” The corners of his mouth twitched with irritation. “So  _ take _ it. Unless you want to keep being this stubborn.”

My gaze dropped to the floor as I thought.

“I need space,” I said, closing my eyes and switching the world off. He waited, gave me one hard pat on the shoulder, said “Okay,” and stood up. The last thing I heard was him dropping to the outside pavement below; he’d left the way he came. I kept my eyes closed. Maybe he was right—I wasn’t sure if I  _ did  _ ever want to see his face again.

_ What I wouldn’t give to be blind for a month. _


	10. The Check-In

Freyja’s funeral service was one of the bleakest I’d ever seen. Not that any in particular had been very lively, but all the color and air seemed to be sucked from the room, even in the bright flowers by my tía’s casket, even the little children who’d been dragged along by their parents and really didn’t know what was going on. I felt this sudden and odd pressure to be the most mature, most sorrowful person out of everybody; maybe because I knew Jack, and felt the need to oversell everything I was feeling, to get it across that I didn’t want this to happen. Maybe because I’d been the first to find her body, though I knew nobody was going to point me out and shout it at the top of their voice. Everyone who so much as knew my name was aware that I’d stayed on my knees that whole night, not moving an inch, whispering over and over again, “He killed her. He killed her. He killed her.”

When it was time for speeches, I felt even more empty inside, even more like I was carrying this terrible burden of knowing her killer. My mother, father, uncles, aunts, grandparents, even Javier kept going on and on about how she was with God in heaven now, and I had to resist the urge to stand up, slam my hands on the back rest of the bench in front of me, and say to everyone’s faces in the middle of a church that there  _ was  _ no heaven and the only place my tía had gone was into the mouth of a possessed, undead cannibal. But I sat quietly with my head down, memorizing the pattern on the psalm books stowed beneath the benches. My fingers kept fiddling with a zipper on my dress, and I caught a few distant relatives giving me the side-eye from across the giant hall like they were trying to figure me out. I learned very quickly to keep my eyes ahead while I was seated.

Javi was the first to come rushing from his room when I’d screamed. I didn’t catch his face; my entire body was still turned to Freyja. But I did hear him vomit about a minute later. The time in between is trickier to remember. He might have tried to cradle her body, sank to his knees in the puddle of blood and lifted her up as fragments of her ribs fell to the floor. There really wasn’t much he could’ve held on to. He still tried. He was definitely crying, and repeating the same few variations of “mom” over and over again. He must have felt so guilty. Anybody would, even if they had no reason to.

Next was my mother, and she let out a yelp of shock when she flipped the light switch in the hall and saw the two of us. That yelp turned into a bloodcurdling scream when she finally looked past Javi and me and saw Freyja’s mangled body. 

_ “MATEO!” _

Everything after that was a blur—a hazy, nauseous, red-stained blur.

I was back sitting in the pews. Dad had barely started his speech, and he already had this look on his face that said,  _ I don’t care if I die anymore, whoever is responsible for this will pay.  _ Bitter, immature thoughts started curling around my mind like dark tendrils as flashes of impulse hit me in the same place, leaving a mental bruise. I still wanted to scream. I wanted to do more than that, a whole lot more. Some of the actions I was suggesting to myself…I couldn’t even wrap my head around what they were supposed to be. Violent? Rebellious? Eye-opening? I knew these were  _ not  _ the kinds of things one should think about, especially at a funeral. But I also knew that I couldn’t be the only one in this hall who was thinking about it.

At the end of the service, as they were lowering her casket into the ground, my anger had started to direct itself at everyone politely paying respects at the side of her grave. I felt unbearable, second-hand guilt for putting on a brave face the entire day, acting like I was just sad, when really my chest was a ticking time bomb. But you don’t yell at a funeral. You don’t cuss out a person nobody else can know exists, at least not out loud.

_ If society wasn’t plenty a bitch to me before… _

I stood idly by the car, a raw, empty feeling spreading throughout my entire body. It took me a moment to realize that I was  _ literally _ empty; I hadn’t eaten at all today. Mateo—my dad, her brother, walked up beside me and cupped my shoulder.

“Want to get dinner somewhere, or head home?”

I rubbed an eye, strangely relieved that his voice was just as weak as mine. “Home.”

He sighed and spun the keys around one finger. “And so it shall be,” he said in that very dad-like tone. The one that tried to tell me everything was going to be okay. I wondered why he, of all people, would lie to me about that.

* * *

My supposed month of recovery was over. At least, in most professors’ eyes. I didn’t have the energy to tell them it was going to take a lot longer for me to start putting my heart into work again. After all, what sort of excuse did I have? That I was weak? That I was tearing myself apart with the knowledge that my aunt’s murderer was still out there?

The thing to finally get me out of bed come Monday was a text from Morgan, around 7:00.

_ Buzz, buzz. _

_ “Hey Soy. I heard about your aunt. I’m really sorry :(” _

_ Buzz, buzz. _

_ “Is there anything I can do to help?” _

I tapped the edge of my phone and bit my lip. This was it. There wasn’t a single truthful thing I could say about the past however-many-days that wouldn’t give Jack away.

_ Why are you even holding back at this point? Maybe he deserves to get caught. Might teach him a lesson or two about betraying someone’s trust. _

But it wouldn’t make me feel any better.

_ How long have you been keeping him a secret? Five months. Five goddamn months! And for what? Because you felt bad for him? Because he asked you nicely? _

More like he forced me.

Breakfast was shitty. Lunch was okay. I didn’t bother with dinner; the most I had in my house was oatmeal, expired deli meat and a couple of tea bags. I decided to lay back in bed the rest of the evening (after finishing my work like a  _ responsible human being _ ) and read to help further my exhaustion. I’d avoided touching  _ Back of Your Mind _ ever since Jack lent it back, knowing it would only remind me of all the things he’d said at the park. The book I was reading now could be classified as a trashy novel more than anything; it was mind-numbing as it was mindlessly entertaining.

I had just scraped Chapter 2 when I heard a sharp tap on the wall next to me, as if it had been struck by a metal rod. If he came in through the window, he’d been quiet as hell about it. Jack rolled back and forth on his heels when he finally caught my gaze, lifting his mask and closing the blinds with unusual gentleness.

“Hi.”

I said nothing.

“…it’s been a while.” His movements were stiff and awkward as he laid his mask down on my desk, turning back around to face me with fidgety hands. I blinked once and returned to my book.

“What’s going on,” I deadpanned. “Kill somebody else I’m related to already?”

He gave me a withering look. “Not funny, man. I  _ said  _ I was sorry.”

“Well, forgive me if I’m not moving on fast enough for you. Because see that?” I pointed my pencil at his face and drew a circle in the air. “That face, that cute little mug is the same one I saw on that creature hunched over Freyja’s body, the same one that literally  _ ripped her to pieces _ just minutes before. I’m not exactly in the mood to be reminded of all that. Ever.”

“I know, but do you have to keep rubbing it in? Do you really think I wanted this to happen?”

He was picking at a scab on his arm, one that I realized was from the cuts he’d given himself when his boss basically possessed him. I narrowed my eyes.

“Hey, don’t even think about opening up one of those again.”

“What?”

“You know what I’m talking about. Stop picking at your arm. I worked hard on you, and I am  _ not  _ redoing any stitches.” I looked down again to keep reading and he scoffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“God, you’re like my mom. First the guilt tripping and now…well, more guilt tripping.”

“Please, you’re lucky I haven’t punched you in the face by now.”

“Bullshit.”

“Don’t try me.”

Silence fell over the room for a good five minutes. I periodically glanced up to see him still staring at me, mouth twitching and sleeves rolled up. After what felt like forever, he raised his eyebrows and scratched his arm one more time, drawing blood.

“Oops.”

I slammed my book shut and grabbed his mask off the table, chucking it into my closet and shutting the door before he could react.

“Listen up. I’m tired. I haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep in days, I’ve been holding myself together by a  _ thread _ ever since Freyja died. I’ve had to deal with my family, the police, everyone who’s anyone thinking all this is a huge mystery, while I’m standing in my bedroom talking to her murderer over a book. So if you’ve got something to say, say it now and say it quick, because I am  _ this close  _ to throwing you out for good.”

“Give me my mask, Sawyer. Don’t make me fight you.”

“You won’t. Whatever you came here to say, just spit it out.”

“Give it  _ back. _ ”

“Are you going to tell me you’re sorry again? Do you think it’ll make a difference this time?”

“Why are you being so difficult?!”

“I am alone, Jack! I’ve been putting on a show for everybody in my life, I can’t tell my best friend what really happened because  _ you’re  _ a part of the picture! Whatever you’re trying to do, it won’t work, so stop trying to  _ help _ me, for Christ’s sake!”

It seemed he didn’t know exactly how to respond to that. The air was heavy with stunned silence; he didn’t even try to get his mask back as I stood there, still and powerless.

I almost collapsed back onto the bed, gripping its edge until I felt that my fingers might break. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I’d definitely finished yelling for the day, that I was sure of. But what was supposed to happen now? Jack didn’t seem as willing to leave me alone as he had been last time.

“This is so stupid,” I whispered to myself.  _ I should’ve left all these feelings behind in high school. I’m going to explode. _

Then he did something super weird. He sat down and hugged me.

With how tired I was all the time and how I hadn’t talked to any of my  _ real  _ friends for days, I just let it happen. The horrible part was, it felt really nice. He was surprisingly warm, his sweater made everything so much softer, and he buried his face into the crook between my neck and shoulder as if he knew the last thing I wanted right now was to look him in the eye. But I think what I did next was arguably weirder. I kind of started crying.

_ Why is he doing this? I know he feels sorry and wants me back on his side, but god, there are better ways of saying that than…this. _

I almost hugged him back, but was afraid of what the back of his hoodie might be covered in. Eventually, I noticed it was opened in the front, and hugged him under the sweater. He didn’t seem to mind. It was warmer underneath, anyway. Everything just started to pour out of me little by little, until I felt like I was in some strange, twisted around version of  _ West Side Story. _ I had just been pounding my fists against his chest, crying,  _ “killer, killer!” _

I expected him to say something in between my quiet sobs, like, “it’s okay,” or maybe even “I’m sorry” again. But he stayed silent, and I couldn’t decide whether I liked it or not. On one hand, he finally shut up and just let me be upset. On the other,  _ Jesus,  _ could I have used a little comfort. Maybe that’s why he was hugging me.

“…are you okay?” he murmured after a while. Somehow, hearing his voice like that almost made me start crying harder.  _ Why did I have to know him? Why couldn't I have just hated him for all this? It would've made things so much easier. But he’s being so nice to me, and I’m still  _ acting  _ like I hate him. Because I want to. And I’m acting like all his apologies mean nothing, because they shouldn’t. Not to me. So why am I crying?! _

“…it does matter,” I said in a croak once I’d calmed down. Neither of us let go of one another.

“What?”

“You being sorry. It does matter. I acted like it meant nothing, I really did hate you. But I can’t keep that up forever. I-I was  _ relieved _ when you said you were sorry. Can you believe that?”

“Sawyer, I—”

“No. Save it. Whatever it is, you’ve probably said it already. I—I know you were just trying to protect me. I get that. I think it was really sweet of you, but…” I sniffed once, and he tried pulling back to look at me, but I just held him tighter out of fear. I wasn’t going to let him see me like this now.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if your boss killed me himself. While I was away. You wouldn’t have been able to stop it, anyway.”

“You don’t have to explain every—”

“I do. You gave me every reason in the book why you still wanted to talk to me, I shut you down every time, I didn’t even care if you got in trouble for something stupid that  _ I  _ said. I thought it would make me feel better, I-I should  _ hate _ you, but I don’t. Not anymore. I just can’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s  _ wrong  _ with you,” he said, with more certainty than usual. “Now come on…” he tried breaking the hug again, but I buried my face in his shoulder this time. He paused.

“Are you hiding from me?”

“Yes.”

“You really don’t have to do that. I mean, you  _ really  _ don’t.”

“I know. I still want to.”

“Come on, it can’t…” with one final attempt, he got me to unlatch myself from him and looked at my face, pity creeping into his features. “Oh. Sawyer—”

“And  _ that’s  _ why.” I hunched my shoulders and averted my eyes, a bitter feeling crawling back from the dark depths of my mind and into my throat. “What’s the damage, doc,” I muttered out of the side of my mouth. Jack shook his head.

“Like I said. Nothing. You were crying, and now you look like this. You’re still human.”

For some reason, hearing that felt more reassuring than if he’d said, “you’re still a girl.” Things like that didn’t matter to him. He probably couldn’t even tell I was insecure about it. In other circumstances, that realization might’ve felt like a slap to the face. Right now, it was almost the opposite. I took a shudder of a breath and nodded, my gaze never leaving the ground.

“I don’t know why I’m feeling this way,” I admitted after a long silence. “I…I don’t really want you out of my life anymore. I’m over that. A-at least, I know I can’t stop it. But I don’t want to forgive you, either.”

“You know those aren’t the only two options, right?”

“I’m not stupid,” I snapped, only to curl up even more out of shame. “…sorry. I just”—I paused to sniff again, rubbing both of my eyes until they probably went blood red—“I’m in this weird middle ground now, and I hate it. I need someone to talk to, but nobody else can know what I do. That you’re the one who did it, that I’ve even said a  _ word _ to whoever did it. So naturally, you’re my only option, but talking to you while I was still in my feelings…it only made everything worse. So I started pushing you away even more, and then you thought you were doing something wrong, a-and now I don’t know what to do, I…god, I don’t know what to do, Jack.”

I hugged my knees and buried my face, almost shivering.  _ I should’ve known better than to only wear a t-shirt inside. _ Jack seemed at a loss for words. We both just sat there for a while, in the cold room, unmoving—at least, as far as I could see. Which was nothing.

“…do you need another hug?”

_ That’s all you can think to say? _

I sighed. “I don’t know if  _ need _ is the right word, but sure. I’m freezing.”

I was put off by how unbothered he seemed by all this. I practically melted into him, anyway. How could I not? I knew it would be a while until I saw Morgan, or even my less close friends again. This, hugging a masked killer in my bedroom after I’d just cried into his shoulder, was as good as it would get for now.  _ Is a “masked killer” supposed to be this sensitive? _

I jerked my arms away when I felt a claw lightly trace my upper back, flinching at the sudden rush of cold air to my body. The hug had lasted a bit longer than I’d expected it to. Jack tilted his head, confused, and then glanced at his hand with realization. He squeezed his eyelids shut and turned back to face the wall.

“…right. Nails. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said, to my surprise as well. “Just startled me.” My eyes felt unnaturally dry now. I looked up and out the window; blackness had swallowed up everything beyond what my porch light could reach. Not even the sky, pink with light pollution, was able to illuminate my tiny yard from here. Stars were enveloped in dark clouds, almost completely obscured from sight. I didn’t know whether they would come out of the dark soon or had just fallen into the thick of it.

I realized that I had no idea whether I would make it out of this alive.

“You got classes tomorrow?”

Jack’s voice pulled me out of my tiny spiral. He still wasn’t looking at me; I knew this time it was more out of fear than anything. I scratched my arms to simulate warmth, too prideful to ask for another hug—although whatever pride I had left didn’t amount to much.

“Yep.”

“That’s too bad.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Too bad in a ‘that sucks for you’ way or a ‘that sucks for  _ me’ _ way?”

He hunched his shoulders and shook his head. “I just thought I could…no, it’s stupid. There’s no point, if you need to sleep—”

“Hey, my sleeping schedule’s plenty fucked-up on its own. What were you thinking?”

His left ear twitched nervously, though he didn’t seem to notice. “You said talking to me before was only making things worse.”

“I probably did, yeah.”

He turned his head to the right, averting his gaze even further.

“Do you want to see if…maybe it’ll make things better?”


	11. Stories

“Did I tell you about that one time I got suspended for punching a kid in the grade above me? Well, of course I didn’t tell you, but—”

“Hold on, you _ what?” _ Jack almost choked on his cold herbal tea, setting it back down on the table to keep it from spilling any more. Apparently, it does wonders to help settle a cannibal’s stomach. “I thought that treatment was reserved for me!”

I laughed and flicked a piece of his hair upward to create a sort of temporary, partial cowlick. “Dumbass. This was in, like, sixth grade!”

“Okay, okay, what happened?” He leaned forward on his elbows like he was some drunk regular trying to hit on the bartender. We had both sat down at my kitchen table, telling any weird life stories that came to us (though he had yet to say anything of substance) and kind of losing our minds; 3:00 AM is not the best time to try doing _ anything _like a rational human being. I once heard someone across campus claim that they learned to juggle lit torches in their room at 3:00 in the morning, but forgot it all that same day after falling asleep for an hour. I always called bullshit on that one, since it was so convenient that they couldn’t prove their hidden talent on the spot. But it was a fun one to tell.

“So, our story begins on the magical grounds of Hudson Valley Prep…”

“Not Hogwarts?”

“Quiet. It’s storytime. I was being picked on by this one kid, a whole year older than me, which…oh, back then, that’s like he was my _ dad_. So he kept doing all these really fucking petty things, he’d put little secret notes in my locker and call me gay and say my deadname really loud in the hallways to bother me—I mean, back then it wasn’t exactly my deadname, but I still hated it. But one day he went just a tiny bit too far, and I _ snapped_.”

“So you punched him?”

“I think I did a little more than that, if I’m being honest. I was almost beating him up, I cursed him out and hit him in the legs and socked him in the face, all that stuff. The thing is, though, I only got one good hit. Everything else was just a failed swing at him, and then all the adults who were there in that hallway broke it up. I wasn’t even crying. Actually, I kind of felt great after that. Got suspended for a week, the other guy got a little talk from our guidance counselor about bullying and a slap on the wrist for fighting back against a kid the year below him.” I shrugged and swirled the water around in my glass around like it was some fancy brand of wine. “I was still kinda pissed that they didn’t do more, because I told them basically everything he’d done up to that point. But he didn’t bother me again. I don’t even think he was scared of me, it just didn’t seem worth it anymore.” I looked at Jack with one eyebrow arched and a finger pointed at him. “And you know what the best part is?”

“What?”

“I caught him making out with some other boy in a bathroom stall, two years later.”

He burst out laughing, though I have no idea why he found it _ that _funny. Maybe he just hadn’t gotten the chance to laugh in a long time. Either way, I started laughing too.

“Yeah, how about calling me gay now, _ Hunter?” _ I yelled into the air. Jack was practically wheezing.

“Holy crap, his name was Hunter?!”

“Right? It’s like it was destiny! You know, I’ve only known two people named that in my life, but everyone else I’ve talked to says the same thing about their own Hunters. It’s magic, I swear to God it is.” I collected myself, took several deep breaths, and rested my head in my hands.

“Okay, I told my story. Your turn.”

“No, no, I really don’t have anything.”

“Come _ on, _you’ve been saying that for the past hour, there’s gotta be something! What about…uh, I don’t know, any girlfriends? Anything that happened at school?”

Jack feigned scratching his face, holding up his middle finger in the process. I laughed while he narrowed his eyelids and took a sip of tea.

“I already told you, my life was _ unbelievably _normal. Now will you stop bugging me about it?”

“You fool, bugging is my specialty! You’re asking a bee not to buzz, a flower not to grow, an American not to shoot!”

He scoffed and let his head roll back over the chair’s edge. “Why are you only this funny when it’s to annoy the shit out of me?”

“Aw, you think I’m funny?”

“I should’ve rephrased that,” he muttered, fingers drumming on the table as he seemed to think. My gaze started wandering towards his skin, gray and chipping off like stone, the blood that still lined his sweater sleeves, his empty eye sockets…

I quickly sobered up from our late-night hijinks, and my voice dropped to a murmur for no reason I could place.

“Jack, how did you die?”

His head snapped up again and he fixed me with a _ look. _ I can’t exactly explain what his look meant with words, but one of the things I knew he was trying to communicate was, _ are you serious? _ I hastily elaborated.

“I mean, according to you, that’s the only interesting thing about your life, right? How you died.”

He stayed silent for a moment, as if deciding whether this topic was worth it.

“…I thought you knew what happened. Didn’t you look me up?”

“Yeah, I got your ‘name,’ if you could even call it that. I wasn’t going to look that far into it, I was more concerned with staying alive for a couple more days.”

He groaned. “Of course. I’m gonna have to explain it.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Hey, you don’t _ have _to. I was just—”

“No, it’s fine. I’d rather you know, anyway.” His eyelids started twitching, as if just thinking about this was enough to make him sick. “That goddamned girl, those people…I can’t even say they tricked me, that’s…stupid enough to go near them, thought giving her the benefit of the doubt couldn’t hurt, and then…”

He seemed to be organizing his thoughts out loud, which threw me for a loop. The mood of this conversation changed so quickly, I found myself wondering how long he’d been waiting to tell this story. _ But why would he wait for that, anyway? This must have been traumatic for him, and he’s just going to spill everything at the drop of a hat? _

Steepling his fingers and staring straight at me (or maybe he was looking sideways; it’s pretty difficult to tell with him), I could see all the creases and stress lines in his face doubling by the second. I almost regretted asking in the first place, but answers are answers.

“…it was all because I’d known Jenny Smith. Let’s start there. Nice girl. Weird, but nice. She always said hi, always asked me how my day was going, always tried dragging me out of my room when I’d been cooped up there for too long. I thought it was because maybe she saw me as a friend. Maybe she cared about me, even if I barely knew her past the name.”

“Let me guess: she didn’t.”

“It’s a lot more complicated than that, but yeah.” He closed his eyes and took in a shaky breath. Getting past that part seemed to take a lot out of him, for just a couple of sentences. “My roommate was suspicious of her. Not because she really did anything, she just seemed way too interested in…you know.” At my confused and mildly disgusted expression, he raised an eyebrow. “_ Cults_. She read a lot about cults, don’t look at me like that.”

“Ah. Okay.”

“So, the idiot I was, I brushed it all off. Harmless, right? Just some random girl who looks into dark, creepy things. No big deal. I still don’t know if she had her eye on me from the beginning, or if it’d just been pure bad luck, but I do know that I never should have gone anywhere near the forest that night. That night or _ ever. _ I can still…” He swallowed, trailed off and began twisting the skin on his arm, as if trying to give himself a burn.

“I can still hear all the chanting sometimes. It hasn’t gotten better, not at all, not since Ch—uh, since the boss has found me. He’s a twister, that’s kind of what I like to call him. Pulls people in when they hit rock bottom, twists their mind around until it’s like putty…I’m lucky he didn’t have anything to threaten me, or bribe me with. Some people think they’ve lost it all, but…” he gazed at one of his hands, tracing a finger over the claws. “I really did. The only thing I could’ve rid myself of at that point was the mask. And trust me, I would have. The girl, Jenny, she worshipped that demon along with God-knows-how-many people. When I tried to get her to leave, she knocked me out, sacrificed me, got rid of…”

He nearly doubled over, unable to say the next words, at least not in the same breath. I didn’t need him to. I thought maybe I should pat him on the back, get him another serving of tea or something—_ coffee. I still haven’t had any coffee today _—but I just sat there, not knowing what the right move would be. Eventually, he continued.

“…yeah. So, I-I killed them. All of them. Everybody who was there, at least, I know some of the smarter ones stayed home that night. But I took Jenny’s mask, I was almost going to break it in half, but then I realized that I wasn’t even really human anymore.” He let out an ironic little laugh. “I’d just murdered a bunch of fucking college students, in the middle of the forest, during a bonfire that everyone from a mile around could see! I had to hide myself, so…I put it on.”

He didn’t explain further than that, though the way he furrowed his eyebrows said something like, _ of course, that was pointless. Everybody knows who I am now. _ And how the hell was I supposed to respond to that? _ Sorry, Jack, I never realized you had such a tragic backstory? Let’s hug again and agree to never talk about this as long as we live?! _

“…that sucks,” I said slowly, cringing on the inside from how much of an understatement that was. Weirdly enough, he didn’t seem too bothered by it. I even thought I could see a tiny smile flicker on his face before he narrowed his eyelids some more, looking away.

“Anyway—”

“Are you sure you want to keep going?” I leaned forward, trying to catch his…well, not-eye. “It kinda seems like you’re just reliving it at this point. You don’t have to tell me the full story.”

“But you deserve it. I was a total dick to you when we first met, and all that stuff with your aunt happened, and…I don’t know. Maybe if you were some other person…_ ha, _ maybe if you’d been, like, 1% meaner to me I would’ve stopped a while ago.”

“But what more is there to say?” I was really starting to regret asking him about this; before, when we were just messing around and laughing and trying to forget our rocky history, it was like we were equals. Friends, even. I didn’t feel like I needed to rush him out or force him to stay—hell, I was _ enjoying _ his company. Now I was trapped, and he wanted to tell the whole truth about his death and Jenny or whatever her name was because apparently, I deserved to know. But I didn’t buy that. Even if it was true, I didn’t want him to continue. For both of our sakes.

“What more is there to say…?” he repeated, his head sinking until it landed in folded arms. “Well, the demons found me. Told me I belonged to them, that I was only alive because of them, yadda yadda, I’m pretty sure most of it was bullshit. But I’ve stayed with them for this long, so…”

He sighed and tapped his nails on the table, trying to find out where that sentence was supposed to lead. Thinking about it long enough seemed to screw him up pretty badly; the part of his hair that swept up, in its own charming little way, practically wilted. His eyelids stretched so wide I thought they might split down the middle.

“God, what’s my life come to? Yeah, I’m not really sure what would happen if I just _ left, _ but I’ve been letting those assholes walk all over me for years! Just because I used to be human, they—they think they own me! I was in college, my life was nothing! I-it was just beginning, and then all that happened, and…”

He tied up his unfinished sentence with a shake of the head and buried his face in his arms like a sulky teenage boy. I hesitated to interrupt his angst stew, almost reaching out to pat him on the shoulder but ultimately deciding against it.

“You okay there, buddy?”

He lifted his head and scrunched up his nose in thought. “I—ugh. Sorry, I’m just…going through it right now, I guess.” Running a hand through his hair, he sighed and muttered to himself, “Why couldn’t have I just thought about all this alone?”

_ I don’t know, maybe because I asked you to spill your whole tragic past five minutes ago? _

I bit the inside of my cheek. “It’s okay,” I said for the second time that night. It didn’t seem to surprise him any less. As silence fell over the kitchen, I looked down at my water and tried to fight back a pitying smile.

“What you said back in January, about not wanting to live without me…you didn’t mean that, did you?”

Jack frowned, sitting up straight again. “What? Of course I meant it. I…” A sheepish look crossed his face as he rubbed a heavily scratched spot on his forehead, eyelids shutting closed. “Jesus, that sounded really stupid, didn’t it.”

“No. Not really. But I don’t think you were talking about _ me_.”

His sheepish look turned to one of abject confusion. I tried elaborating without being too on-the-nose about it, though that was getting harder by the second. “Jack, how long has it been since you just talked to someone?”

“By ‘someone,’ I’m assuming you mean a human.” He sighed, blowing a tiny piece of hair up and out of his face. “Haven’t been doing a lot of that lately.”

I nodded, letting my very next thought slip out without so much as a blink.

“You’ve really been alone, haven’t you?”

He seemed to have a difficult time in deciphering whether I was being serious or taunting him. I raised an eyebrow and took my hands off the table, as if communicating to a frightened animal, _ I’m not going to hurt you. _ After an oddly strained moment, he drummed his fingers on his arms, gulped, and turned his head to nod.

“…yeah. Alone, isolated, independent, whatever you want to call it. That’s what I’ve been.”

“So I’m the first person you’ve talked to in…however many years?”

“Five.” He narrowed his eyelids, reluctant to actually answer my question. I was surprised he didn’t flat-out say that _no, of course I wasn’t, _ or tell me to get over myself. He simply pulled a sweater sleeve over his hand and rested his head there, still avoiding eye contact.

_ He wasn’t saying he didn’t want to live without _me.

_ He didn’t want to lose the one potential friend he’s had all this time. _

I took a breath, and his unspoken advice; I got over myself.

“Hey. I know I don’t seem like it sometimes, but…I care about you. Really.”

Though his mouth was covered, I saw his eyes squint over the hoodie’s fabric, and I could tell he was smiling despite himself. “I knew it,” he muttered.

“Okay, on second thought, you’re the worst person I’ve ever met in my life.”


	12. I Guess We're Friends Now, Whatever That Means

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’ll ever truly forgive him for my tía’s death. If anything, it made me want to help him more, since he hadn’t been in his right mind when it happened. His whole past with Jenny, and the cult, and that demon—Chernobog, I remembered it was called—basically ruined his chances of being able to trust anyone ever again. Anyone except me, I suppose.

Deadlines for different assignments and forms were hanging over my head all the time now, but that didn’t stop him from visiting me almost every day.  _ Without  _ my permission. I’m not sure if he thought he could make up for all this by being extra friendly with me, or if it was something else. I mean, it worked. A little. When he dropped by one Sunday, anxious and sharper-looking than usual, I didn’t bother saying hello. I simply let him get to whatever he wanted to say.

“Can we talk?”

I bit the inside of my cheek and looked to my textbooks sprawled out across my desk. “Does it have to be now? I was kind of going to sort through my things. And then…work. More.”

Jack frowned. “You’re practically killing yourself with all this. Whenever I see you, it’s work, work, work—hell, the last time we saw each other for more than five minutes, you were pushing all these assignments to 3:00 in the morning!”

“And whose fault is…” I stopped myself before something hurtful was said. “Nope. Not doing that today. What did you need?” I asked with a sigh, pulling out my phone to check for any messages. Morgan had texted. Twice.

_ “What are you doing tomorrow? I’m having a lunch date, s.o. says it’s fine if u tag along.” _

_ “They really want to meet you again!!” _

Yesterday, at 11:00 PM.

“I guess  _ help  _ would be a good place to start,” Jack said in a rushed yet tired tone. I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Hold on right there, I thought I was already helping you. This whole not-telling-Cher—”

I was cut off by a stern shake of his head and a finger to his lips.  _ Oh. I guess I can’t even say its name. _

“That’s not it. This is a different kind of help, I…” He sighed and threw his head back as if saying to God,  _ please, take me now.  _ “I want to learn how to be normal. Human. Or I guess ‘relearn,’ if that makes sense.”

“Gladly. Lesson one: showers. Hands-on activity, try it out for yourself!” Not looking up from my phone, I pointed out the door towards the bathroom. “Go on.” Jack wasn’t amused.

“I mean how to  _ act  _ normal, Sawyer. And I don’t need to take a shower that bad, I’m fine.”

“When was the last time you did?”

“I’m not answering that.”

I raised an eyebrow and sat up, running a hand through my hair. “M-hm. So…you want to act like a person. That’s it? I don’t know if you need a lot of help on this one, bud—”

“Trust me, I do. I haven’t had a single conversation with someone in years, not a regular, human one.”

I frowned. “So I’m not human enough for you, huh?”

“It doesn’t count when I’ve talked to  _ one person _ over the course of several months. I’d say you’re more of a practice run. I have a human disguise, one that covers up all the physical stuff, keeps me from getting arrested if I’m just seen going to a convenience store or something. But I don’t know how to interact with other people. At all. Not without giving something away. So I figured, why not go to the most human-y human I know?” He leaned down and ruffled my hair with a knowing smile. I batted his hand away, the seed of an idea having already been planted in my head. I had to fight back a smirk as the details started rushing to me.

“So I basically get to reinvent you? You’re already something of an actor, if I do say so myself.” I recalled our encounter at the park, months ago, with a bittersweet feeling.

“As long as it’s not ridiculous, yeah.” His eyelids widened in a jolt of panic. “God, I hope I’m not giving you too much power…?”

“Too late. My brain’s buzzing, Jack, only a matter of time before it spits the new you out.” I stretched my arms and stood up from the bed, pausing when I remembered exactly where we were. “…you do realize how little people care about how weird you act, right? This is a university full of tired 20-something-year-olds who are just trying to scrape a ‘pass.’”

“One of them could be a detective. You never know.”

I raised an eyebrow and nodded to humor him, already thumbing back a response to Morgan’s messages. “Well, I guess you caught me on a lucky day, because I have the perfect little gathering for us to start with.”

* * *

I gave him about a second’s worth of information regarding the time and place of the lunch date, realizing my mistake as I began to dress myself. Knowing him—or, really,  _ not _ knowing him—he could have either gotten by fine on his own with just my tidbit, or have been completely lost on this huge campus.  _ The lunch tables near the performing arts building at 12:30. _ That’s all I’d said. I bit a small piece of dead skin on my thumb as I glanced over my hair in the mirror, wondering if I should go looking for him in case it hadn’t been enough.

_ Do you even know where he lives? _ I frowned.  _ Hold on, does he live  _ anywhere?

I felt tempted to grab a few of my books off the desk and stuff them into my bag, so I could cram in some extra work during lunch as well. Jack’s words from just an hour ago were slingshotted from the back of my brain to the edge of my skull, making me grip the bag’s strap tightly and shake my head.

“You’re killing yourself with all this,” I muttered. “He’s right.” Not another second passed before I widened my eyes and slapped my forehead, with comically exaggerated irony. “Imagine that! Jack being  _ right!” _

I looked to a small alarm clock on my left. I had about ten minutes to make my way over, and for once, I’d pulled myself together a sufficient amount beforehand. I just needed to rendezvous with the human-wannabe himself, make sure he looked…presentable, and do my best to make things go smoothly with Morgan and her date.

It was one of those warmer days near the end of winter, where the sharp sting of its cold starts winding down and everything else starts kicking up. Whatever snow was left on the grass had, sadly, been trampled by muddy shoes or maybe even a few deer. Despite any plans today’s temperature had in store for me, the sun was beating down and providing warmth to whatever parts of me fell under its rays. The world looked bright for the first time in a while.

I was beginning to get so distracted by the scenery surrounding the arts’ building that I nearly ran into somebody on my path.

They didn’t budge, and I glanced up to see a familiar red-headed “stranger” looking down at me with caution. He arched an eyebrow while I dusted myself off, as if checking my reaction.

“Sawyer,” he began simply, like he was an old arch-rival of mine. I cleared my throat, still a little thrown off by his appearance. He was taller than usual, like at the park, although everything else stayed virtually the same except for his color palette.  _ It’s the hair. It’s got to be the hair. _

“Yes, uh…Jack, right?”

“We’re in public. How about James?”

I crossed my arms. “How about Jimothy?”

He scowled and narrowed his eyes. “Jack it is, then.”

I took the extra minute that I had to look him up and down, examining what could only be described as his “costume.” The clothes were all weirdly formal, like he’d stolen this look from a stuffy white-collar worker. It looked too much like the real him to be any sort of doppelgänger situation, so worrying about whether he had a twin on the other side of campus was right out.  _ Forgive me for assuming, but I’m not sure pre-eye-gouging Jack would be caught dead in any of this. _

His eyes, I’d just noticed, were a scarily artificial shade of baby blue, like someone had colored them in with crayon. I knew it probably wasn’t what he looked like when he was alive, but…

“They look nice.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“Your eyes. The fake ones.” Though he didn’t look the least bit offended (and I had no idea why he would, he might have still been processing my first sentence), I couldn’t help but feel like I’d just put my foot in my mouth. I took a step back and awkwardly held up my hands.

“I mean, I still prefer the  _ old _ you. It’s just…no, what am I doing? You didn’t ask for my opinion.” I grabbed his hand and started towards the tables before he could respond, making a mental note to not look his way for another five minutes.  _ That face is only going to trip me up.  _ “Let’s go.”

“Uh, okay—!” He lurched forward as I dragged him along and pointed hesitantly towards one section of tables on our path. “Hey, she’s that friend of yours, right? Is that the ‘gathering’ you were…”

I noticed two figures sitting there, one familiar and one not so much. The other person had short-cropped blond hair and about ten bracelets of varying sizes on each wrist. Before Jack could continue, I called out, “Morgan!” and started walking faster with a hand outstretched in greeting. She perked up and waved me over, while her blond partner gazed at Jack and me with calculating eyes.

“Hey! Soy-Soy, you’re on time.” Within the second, Morgan’s hands were clasped together on the table and her eyes read stern worry. “You’re not holding anything off to be here, are you?”

I laughed and took a seat across from her. “Nah. Well, kind of, but it’s all just busywork, not due for a long time.”

“I told you,” Jack singsonged quietly as if he couldn’t help himself. I nudged him in the arm and scoffed.

“Shut up, you know I’m actually taking your advice for once.”

Morgan cleared her throat, nodding to my right with a sort of learned reverence saved for anyone she didn’t know. “And this is…?”

I hastily patted Jack on the shoulder and gestured to him as if he were something for sale, or a celebrity I happened to pick up on the sidewalk. “Oh! The great Jack Nichols, theatre major. Jack, this is Morgan and…” While I blanked on the other person’s name, Jack shot me a look that said,  _ where’d you get  _ that?

I shot him one right back, saying,  _ where do you think? I did my homework, don’t worry. _

“Leigh,” the blond said after a silence that lasted about one second too long. They gave us a crooked but friendly smile, shaking Jack’s hand and  _ boop _ -ing me on the nose. Apparently, meeting them once before was enough to warrant that kind of gesture. “We were just about to get some real food, want to come with us?”

I arched an eyebrow. “‘Real’ food?”

Leigh reached into a tote bag wedged between them and Morgan, retrieving what looked to be about five energy bars with tired eyes. “Apparently, these are not sufficient for a lunch date.”

Morgan shook her head, fighting back a smile, while I felt a small but sudden jolt of guilt at the word “date.” I drummed my fingers on one arm and mustered an apologetic look.

“Uh, I really hope we’re not intruding on anything, or I’d have to drag this guy somewhere else.” I gestured to Jack with a jab of a thumb, and he scoffed.

“You don’t have to say  _ that.  _ I’m not a dog.”

“We’ll see.”

“Sawyer, it’s fine,” Morgan said with a laugh. “I invited you, remember? Come on, if either of you are hungry, now’s the time.”

When everybody but Jack stood up, I threw him a warning glance, remembering with haste that he probably couldn’t eat whatever would be served at the dining hall. He scratched his face and shrugged.

“Um, you guys go on. I’ll just hang back here.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.  _ Is he even  _ trying _ not to look suspicious?  _ “Nonsense. You’re coming with us, now get up! It’s the whole reason we came here.”

“I’ve already eaten today.”

The way he looked at me when he said that gave me a horrible, gut-wrenching feeling. Besides the obvious meaning Morgan and Leigh wouldn’t pick up—that he lived off of human flesh, and that meant some poor soul nearby had died earlier today—he was giving me a warning look of his own, one I knew well but still couldn’t quite put my finger on. It said something like,  _ If you argue with me on this, it’ll only make things worse. _ I chose, with difficulty, to ignore this warning, and shook my head.

“You’re still getting up. You won’t last a second out here alone, trust me.” I took his arm, gentle despite my words, and pulled him to his feet. “Blasted concrete jungle full of millennials, textbooks, tables with umbrellas…”

He huffed. “You’ve made your point.” As Morgan and Leigh started towards the nearest dining hall and turned their attention away from us, confusion still apparent on their faces, Jack jerked his arm to the side, and by association, me. “What was that you said about nobody here caring how weird I am?” he said in a hiss.

“We’re in polite company,” I hissed right back at him. “Besides, that’s for quick stuff that doesn’t require a lot of talking. You wanted my help. Well, this is what I’m giving you.”

“I don’t think you know what ‘polite company’ means.”

“Just try to go along with whatever’s happening. Don’t make a fuss.”

“You were the one who—!”

Leigh turned their head and fixed us with a worried yet curious look, and we both shut our mouths.

* * *

I returned to the table with a generic house salad and a nervous Jack still on my arm. We’d basically traded places once we entered the hall, what with all the people crowded around us and the painful overhead lights. Those seemed like a waste, too, since there was already plenty of sunshine outside.  _ Could he just…choose not to see things? With the whole no-eyes deal? That’d feel like a blessing right about now. _

Morgan and Leigh, the shameless lovebirds, got something to split. I couldn’t even begin to tell what it was supposed to be; maybe a starting base of pasta salad, with god-knows-how-many other things piled on top. Seemed to satisfy them both either way.

Jack, being…well,  _ whatever _ kind of thing he was, took no more and no less than a cup of fountain soda. At least it was something. When we all sat back down, he was still attached to me, whether he realized it or not. I practically had to shake him off, giving him a light pat on the arm to assure him that there were no hard feelings when there were, in fact,  _ several _ hard feelings about him clinging to me like that.  _ Dammit, this is a cold, cutthroat world of social queues and I won’t have you thinking anything else! _

Unfortunately, Morgan seemed to notice the exchange (if only the surface-level bits) and shared a conspiratorial glance with Leigh before turning back to us.

“So how long have you two been…well…” She awkwardly linked two of her fingers for lack of better words. I stifled a laugh.  _ Wait, they think—? _

“We just met this year,” Jack answered, looking bored already. I wanted to pinch him and say,  _ “oh, so now being  _ normal  _ suddenly isn’t cutting it for you?” _ But I obviously couldn’t. So I settled with tapping his shoulder and muttering, “She means dating, Jack. They think we’re together.”

I could almost see his mind buffering as he tried to come up with an appropriate reaction to that, while Leigh looked disappointed.

“Aw, you’re not? But you guys would be so cute!”

“Well, sorry.” I shrugged, not very sorry at all that I wasn’t… _ involved  _ with somebody like Jack. Morgan piped up.

“Haven’t you at least thought about it? I mean, you basically argue like a married couple.”

_ So they really did hear all that. _

“Pssh. You wish, two losers getting hitched on each other means you’d get to narrow in on the hot ones. And we’re not trying to make that any easier for you, isn’t that right, Jim?” I nudged him in the arm, and he nearly choked on whatever sugary crap he’d been drinking, shooting me a dirty look. Morgan tilted her head.

“You mean Jack…?”

_ Shit.  _ “Uh, yeah, I just like calling him that to piss him off. Funny, how much it gets to him.”

Jack leaned on his elbows and grumbled into his hands, “It’s not the only thing you do that gets me…off…no, that’s not right.”

Leigh snickered. “Ever the wordsmith, isn’t he?”

I laughed along, though I couldn’t help feeling a twinge of embarrassment for the guy. “Yeah. Ever since he learned to talk on stage, he’s forgotten how to do it with real people.”  _ His face is getting redder by the second! Can’t he control that? _

“So, Leigh, you’re doing something with art?” I hurried to change the subject while Jack recovered. “The last time I saw you, it was with some ungodly amount of markers, and paper, and…”

Their eyes lit up once the magic word had been uttered. “Yes. Art. Hold on,” they said in an exaggeratedly breathless tone, rummaging through their bag once more and pulling out a beat-up spiral notebook with immeasurable glee. They flipped it open to the middle, revealing a small but detailed thumbnail of some landscape scene, colored in with roughly blended marker, and wrought with post-it notes. They passed it to me, giving me little choice but to raise my eyebrows and try to decipher their rushed chicken scratch.

“And this is…?”

“Animation project. It’s about an angel who falls from grace, and has to rely on the help of two humans to get back on her feet.”

I took another look at the drawing, realizing that there was more on the subsequent pages. The little character certainly  _ looked  _ angelic, although if not for Leigh’s description, I couldn’t tell you the first thing about any of this. I nodded, intrigued nonetheless.

“And how far along are you with that?”

“Couple more months, and it’ll be done. These are just the brainstorms, they’re kind of a mess.”

I sighed internally, relieved that at least  _ this _ wasn’t all they had to work with. “Cool. I’ve heard animating is a whole lot of work and tough shit for circus peanuts, so…I mean, good luck. Seriously.”

They shrugged as I handed the notebook back. “It’s okay. I like doing it, even when it’s a pain in the ass. It’s my ‘calling,’ I guess.”

Jack suddenly looked interested for the first time that day, but I had a feeling it didn’t have much to do with Leigh’s project. He folded his arms on the table and furrowed his eyebrows at me.

“Wait, you never did tell me why you’re in med school, did you?” He nudged me in the arm, for once not seeming so uptight. “Out with it! What’s the reason, what made it your ‘calling,’ or whatever?”

Appreciative as I was that he was actually engaging in the conversation now, this was one subject I didn’t want to touch. Not during lunch with two other people, at least. I shrugged.

“Nah. Sorry, Jimothy, my reasons are mine alone. Locked up in here.” I gestured to my forehead with a click of my tongue and stabbed at a particularly uncooperative cherry tomato. It wasn’t a horribly tragic or personal story—well, not  _ too  _ personal. But going into it would’ve been a bit exhausting for this time of day. I still had work to do when I got home, a fact I internally winced at when reminded.

“Alright then,  _ the great Jack Nichols _ .” Morgan jumped to my defense, though it really wasn’t necessary; Jack already looked like he was ready to drop the subject. “What’s your story? Theatre major…that’s got to be a whole lot more interesting than what  _ we’ve _ been doing.”

I could tell she didn’t exactly mean that, but something seemed to awaken in Jack at those words. He arched an eyebrow, adopting a strange persona that I’d only seen in the “human” version of him in small doses.

“Hey, it’s not all fun and games. I didn’t even like theatre before I started college, it was only because of…” He started scratching at a tiny bump on the table and directed his gaze to a nearby shrub. “…my dad. He’s been so pushy about my career and everything, a-and I’ve tried reasoning with him but all it ends up doing is make him stricter. Wanted me to go to this huge, prestigious school for the fine arts, or whatever, he was  _ this close _ to grabbing my arm and forcing me to write up an application. I made an extra-mediocre compromise going here, just to piss him off. I’m sure he won’t even let me back in his house for breaks. It’s fine by me—oh, and he  _ hates  _ Sawyer, for one reason or another. Forget why. I think she’s just a little too human for him.”

I raised an eyebrow as he gave Leigh and Morgan a thoughtful glance.  _ Oh, okay, I see what you’re doing here. _

“You two…you’re lucky. You don’t seem like you have somebody breathing down your neck about what to do with your lives. Take advantage of that.” Something resembling a sympathetic look had crossed his face, and I couldn’t help but stare a bit.

_ Aw, he’s not so bad. A little rough around the edges…okay,  _ really  _ rough around the edges. But he’s trying. Kind of. _

A few minutes passed, and I didn’t even realize I was still staring at him until he gave me a funny look, eyes darting back and forth between the couple and me; the cinematic mist over our eyes had dispersed as quickly as it’d fallen. Jack raised an uncertain finger.

“Why are you…?”

I snapped out of my daze and raised my eyebrows, hoping I’d successfully covered it up. “You ready to go?”

Jack cleared his throat and nodded, still looking a tad confused. I stood up, stretched, then grabbed his hand to help him up. Not that he really needed it.  _ Wait, why did I do that? _

“Come on. Get those legs to walk again, young horse…!” I said, pretending to pull as he stood up himself.

“That’s not a thing,” he muttered. “Is…is that a thing?”

“Eh, who cares. It was really nice talking to you, Morgan and  _ Leigh,  _ whose name I did not forget this time,” I said with a grand, salutatory wave of the hand. Leigh snickered again in their excessively Leigh-esque way, lacing their fingers with Morgan’s and turning to her with a surprised look. Morgan furrowed her eyebrows.

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later. Bye, you two!” They turned back to Jack and me with their head in a hand, like they were already plotting something out for the two of us. I pushed that worrying notion to the back of my mind and started heading back to my house. Without a second to waste once we were out of sight, Jack gripped my forearm and knit his eyebrows close together.

“Theatre major?” he grumbled under his breath. “Seriously?”

I laughed. “Yeah, thought it’d suit you. You’re always so dramatic, plus, with…this whole thing,” I said, pinching a small patch of fabric on his sleeve, “you can’t really say I’m wrong. And that backstory, with your dad and college and everything? I didn’t know you had that in you. I’m proud of you, you little nerd.” I gave him a celebratory punch on the arm while he scoffed and held his head high, like some snooty businessman.

“I’ve told you. It’s survival. And for your information, my name is Jack  _ Gordon,  _ not Nichols.”

I gasped. “I searched you up on the internet and was fed  _ lies?  _ For shame.”

“Shut up.”

“Hey, if you want to be seen with me in public, you’re going to have to get used to talking like this. You know that’s what people do with each other in the real world, right…? They talk.”

“Ever hear about something called an introvert? Maybe I don’t want to talk to people I don’t know, in a place I don’t like. If we were just sitting, alone, looking like we’re busy, I think I could tolerate  _ that. _ ”

“You and many other people. Look, I already told you, you did pretty good back there. And you’re the one who asked me to help you out! You’ve been alone for way too long. You should get some friends—real ones, not those demons, or whatever. God knows how long I’m gonna be alive, so just try to be a  _ person  _ around other people.”

Jack hesitated, then dug his nails into the sleeve of my sweater, grabbing on tight.

“Remember that night I came to your house, all high and beaten up after the boss possessed me?”

_ How could I not? _

“…yeah. What about it?”

“Remember how I said you didn’t need other people because you had me there?”

I didn’t answer. He stopped walking, his hold on my sleeve causing me to stumble back and face him. He narrowed his eyes, and I could see the roots of his hair fading back to their original color, little by little. He didn’t look annoyed anymore; in fact, his expression was practically unreadable. I only saw a trace of disappointment flicker through his features—in the way he furrowed his eyebrows, in the fixed corners of his mouth.

“I want you to think about that,” he said, so quietly that I wasn’t sure whether I’d even heard him right at first. “Because that was probably as real as I’ve gotten with you.”

He let go of me and nodded towards the front door of my house; we’d arrived there about a minute ago, and I hadn’t noticed. When I looked back at him, he was already walking away, his hands turning gray, his shoes tracking blood, his clothes now pitch black.

_ A statue,  _ I realized as I dug around in my bag for the house keys.  _ Jack Gordon is a statue. _


	13. I Try to Avoid Some Feelings

All this vague, borderline possessive bullshit gave me a lot to think about later that night.

I understood what he was trying to say. At least, I was pretty sure I did. I got that he’d been alone for so many years, and maybe trying to thrust him back into the world and make him a functioning member of society wasn’t the best idea. I understood why he felt that we only needed each other, however strongly I disagreed. I really did mean what I’d said; he needed other people in his life, whether he liked it or not.

I sighed and stared at the clock on my desk, watching the seconds tick by. It was 9:00 already. Not that that was unbearably late, but it felt like a punch to the gut knowing the rest of the day had gone by so quickly.

_ I guess getting him another friend would be a lot easier said than done. _

I buried my face in my pillow, trying to drown out all these conflicting thoughts. Why couldn’t I stop thinking about it? Why was it bothering me so much? We’d grown so close to each other that Morgan and Leigh thought we were a  _ couple _ . Jack was able to brush it off so easily, as if he wasn’t even taking their questions in! So why did I feel so put off, hours after we left?

There was a knock at my door.

I started, accidentally punching my alarm clock off the desk. Chills were spreading across my arms now for no reason I could place. I looked to my window; no draft. My body temperature seemed to have just gotten knocked down a couple degrees. Taking a shudder of a breath, I grabbed the closest thing to a sweater off my floor and threw it on, rubbing my eyes as I made my way downstairs.

Through a window in the living room, I could see snow falling onto the grass in sheets. Answering the door this late was probably a bad idea, but I gulped and tried to think optimistically. Maybe some worn traveller was looking for a place to stay for the night, what with the unexpected storm, and nobody else would let them in. Maybe it was a friend who’d forgotten something here, maybe it was…

I opened the back door as my visitor sent another barrage of knocks to see a familiar blue mask and dark, heavily torn hoodie.

I stifled a yawn with my hand, an ominous feeling creeping up my back the longer I looked at him. Neither of us said a word. I realized just then that I didn’t know which side of him was going to be behind that mask if I let him in, especially around this time of day. I blinked.

“You again?”

_ You’d better not be “hungry,” or anything like that. _

Nothing. He just stared blankly for a while before falling into my arms, gasping for air. I let out a yelp of surprise.

“ _ Jack!  _ What are—”

“Ah, sorry, sorry, you just…” He lifted his head, turned away, and coughed. Violently.

“…y-you said I could’ve knocked.”

“How bad is it,” I breathed, not sure there was room for any other explanation; he’d been possessed again. He’d hurt himself again, in some fit of rage or maybe to drive the “boss” off. He was completely limp against me, bits of his clothes charred—not that you could tell from looking—and chunks of his hair ripped out. Without waiting for an answer, I started dragging him inside.

“Okay. Okay, okay, okay…” I whispered to myself, looking frantically around the kitchen for something to lay his body on while I assessed the damage. There was no way in  _ hell _ I could drag him all the way upstairs, where he would get somewhat proper help, but I knew I was going to have to do it eventually. I spied the sink’s tap through the darkness, switched on the lights, and rested Jack’s head on a nearby chair leg.

I heard something fizz on my hand as I filled up a glass with water, looking to see the same smoke that had poured out of Jack’s body when he last came to my house like this. It stuck to my hand like syrup, and as drops of water spilled over the glass’s rim, it bubbled and fizzed out, falling down the drain before I could get a better look at it.

_ The water just…dissolves it? _ I furrowed my eyebrows, tiredness making way for a sick, bitter feeling.  _ Where was  _ that _ when I was trying to scrub that disgusting tar off of my walls?! Does it only work when it’s still smoke? _

Jack dug his nails into the tiled floor, as if to keep himself from being dragged away again. I took one last glance at the cup of water in my hand and made my way back to him, lifting his chin to look him in the eyes; his mask had fallen off somewhere in the brief panic.

“Okay, buddy, you’re going to have to work with me here. I’ve got some water—you can drink that, right? It works with your weird, cannibalistic diet?”

He didn’t move, but the corners of his mouth turned upward to form a weak, thin smile, and I took that as a yes.

“I’m going to give you this, then we can head upstairs and fix you up. Sound like a good idea?”

He nodded lazily, his mouth falling open by about an inch. The second the water touched his lips, I heard a loud  _ hiss _ in the air as he coughed and sputtered. His skin suddenly looked torn up, blistered and  _ burnt… _

“Shit!” I wiped the remainder of the liquid off his face and set the glass down.  _ Right. Demon.  _ “Oh, my god. I’m sorry, are you—”

Jack started laughing, hard. “Y-you just…you just burned me! Did I scare you?”

_ How is that a joke to you?! _

I narrowed my eyes. “Okay. We’re getting you upstairs. Can you at least help me with that?”

“But did I scare you?”

“Yes! A lot, now come on.” I hoisted him up by the arms, figuring anything that got dislocated could be dealt with later. He was surprisingly light, even more so than last time…

_ Blood loss,  _ I found myself thinking against my every wish. I hastily shook my head.  _ No, no, it doesn’t work like that. Does it? Stop, that doesn’t matter! _

I practically heaved him up each step while he stayed limp in my arms, nowhere near as enthusiastic as he’d been seconds before. He grumbled a few incomprehensible things under his breath, claws on the verge of piercing my sweater sleeve. All I was able to catch was, “Where is it…where  _ is _ it…”

I decided against the makeshift operating table this time, dragging him into my room and laying him down on a cleared-off section of the floor. I knew I would regret taking all this blood and tar and god-knows-what-else into the space where I slept, on purpose to boot. Jack wheezed and yelled when I left the room to wash my hands and put gloves on, and I saw a shaky hand grab at thin air from my doorway when I returned with supplies. His eyelids widened with desperation as I walked back in.

“Where did…hey!” Each of his breaths were cracked and hoarse, like he was forcing down phlegm. “Please. Where’s my mask, I-I need it, it’s blue and—”

“Jeez, hold on! I don’t know, it’s probably back downstairs. You’ll live without it,” I sighed, leaning down to comb some hair out of his face. He turned his head and tried to swat my hand away, his arm lifting by about an inch and falling to the floor. When it didn’t work, he grabbed my hand as I was about to stand back up and held it to his chest, letting out a small wince of pain.

“Please, y-you have to make sure no one sees me. Nobody can mourn me like this. I…listen, please!” He tightened his grip on me as I tried to stand up again. “Here it is. My will: the mask goes to Nyx Smith, so she remembers all the  _ shit  _ I had to go through because of her…my knives, those go to the demons, Vick and the HTA guys and whoever else is down there.” A pained, twisted smile was starting to spread across his face, and he looked as if he was on the verge of manic laughter. “A-and my college debt…goes to our  _ lord  _ and  _ savior, Chernobog!” _

He laughed harder than ever before, yelling that last sentence with such irony and mirth that I wondered if he was even high anymore. It sounded just a little too much like the real him. I froze for a good second, waiting for something awful to happen. Maybe he’d break out into a coughing fit, maybe he’d pull something from laughing so hard. Maybe he’d wake up, and get hungry, and go right back to the animalistic state he must’ve been in before…

_ No. This is already enough,  _ this  _ is the same state he was in when he killed… _

I hugged myself and narrowed my eyes, gaze trained on his face. Right now he looked about as harmless as a day-old puppy. Definitely acting as clingy as one. I couldn’t tell for the life of me whether this was all an act, or if all of his weapons and defenses went down around me. I didn’t want to consider either of those possibilities, so I got to healing.

“Alright. Could you just hold still for me? This shouldn’t take too…long…”

I faltered when I opened up his hoodie, revealing tonight’s set of cuts laid out on his torso like a scoreboard. I didn’t get the luxury of a shirt to cover up his more gory wounds; it was all there on sickening display, bloody and probably already infected. Meanwhile, Jack didn’t flinch. He wasn’t exactly  _ staying still _ like I’d asked, either, though. He took the liberty to look around the room in awe, like he was in a glittering mansion, stretching out and shifting around, trying to get back up every other second.

_ Oh,  _ that  _ sure would’ve been helpful while I was dragging you up a flight of stairs! _

Every tool at my disposal would just end up hurting him more if he kept moving like that, without a care in the world. Not even a cotton pad with some rubbing alcohol was safe. I groaned and abandoned the disturbing sight of his chest, holding him down by the shoulders.

“Jesus…hold  _ still, _ Jack, you’ll make me kill you!”

At those words, he froze up with the expression of a startled animal. His breathing started to quicken, and I raised an eyebrow.  _ Either he listened to me for once, or I just made everything a thousand times worse. _

“Hey, are you—”

“That’s exactly what she said,” he whispered.

“Exactly what  _ who _ …?”

I trailed off, digging through my brain and everything I’d learned about him over the past month or so. I remembered  _ “that girl”  _ and  _ “those people,” _ and felt some wickedly sharp combination of fear and guilt crawl up my spine. It was what’s-her-face, Jenny Smith, the girl who sacrificed him all those years ago. Taking a deep breath, I set everything down, brushed myself off, and awkwardly patted both of his shoulders. His expression didn’t fade; I wondered what exactly he was seeing right now, staring dead at the ceiling with terror carved in the space around his eyes. I shook my head and tightened my grip on him, careful not to scare him any more.

“Hey. Jack, it’s me. You’re safe. I’m going to heal you, remember?”

His hands twitched one more time, and he attempted to tilt his head back further onto the floor. How he planned to make that happen, I had no idea, but he was trying.

“…what?” he said after a good minute, furrowing his eyebrows. I sighed.

“I said, you’re—”

_ “Oh! _ Oh, hi, Sawyer, what are you…what’re you doing here?”

“…this is my house.”

“You  _ live _ here?”

“Yep.”

“That’s so cool. I don’t live in a house, it’s more like a—”

“Okay, chatterbox,” I said, placing a hand over his mouth and holding a finger to my lips. “It’s time to quiet down. We— _ I _ need to focus. You want to get better, right?”

I heard a muffled “sure” from under my hand after what felt like forever, and suddenly remembered what a pain in the ass he’d been last time.  _ At least he’s not squirming so much now. _

Cleaning off everything that’d been clogging up his wounds was easier said than done when you took water out of the picture. With every new alcohol pad I applied, I winced a tiny bit, knowing he probably couldn’t feel the sting but being all too aware of it at the same time. Every now and then he started giggling, a soft sound that somehow worried me even more when it came time for stitches. Eventually, I sighed and snipped the excess thread off one of his last visible cuts, tilting my head with an eyebrow raised.

“Can you even feel any of this? I’m basically stabbing you over and over again. Not to mention, you…” I trailed off, looking him up and down before deciding it would be better not to say. “Nevermind.”

He yawned and tried answering me anyway, bless his undead heart. “‘S not so bad, y’know…say, has your floor always been this soft?” His fingertips brushed the wood like it was an animal’s fur. I sighed again.

“It’s a hardwood floor, so I’d guess  _ no. _ ” The last of the stitches were in place, and he was lying oddly still. As everything started winding down again, I felt an emptiness in my chest grow and grow until I thought I might disappear. I tried not to care about what this would do to both of our minds and took one of his hands, holding it close.

“Hey, future Jack, if you can hear me…you’ve  _ got  _ to stop doing this to yourself. I get that you can’t help it, at least when you’re not really there. But I don’t feel like wasting another night like this, having to drag you around and close your wounds and entertain this  _ thing  _ in front of me.” Tears started welling up in my eyes for some reason. I didn’t feel particularly sad, just…I don’t know. Frustrated. Tired.

“So stop it, asshole.”

Jack tried sitting up again, and before he could slip or break something or mess up my work, I’d already caught him by the back and laid him down again. He frowned.

“Why do you look so mad at me?”

_ What? _

“I—no, no, it’s not you. I’m not mad, don’t worry.”

“But you are. You just said it, you said it with your face. Did I do something?”

_ Ooh, that’s a tough question. Want me to type up a list and hand it to you in a wax-sealed envelope? _

“You didn’t do anything. Not this time. I’m just…concerned,” I decided on. After a moment, his expression faded, and I wasn’t sure if he was even still awake. My gaze was drawn to the window.

_ It’s really coming down out there, _ I thought with a shiver.

I sighed and stood up to get a blanket when his hand shot out and grabbed my arm.

“What the—”

“Where are you going?” His words were soft and quick, but filled with fear. I came back down to a kneel and gave him a stern glare.

“I’m going to be  _ ten feet _ away from you, Jack. You can handle it. I’m getting you a blanket so you don’t freeze to death here.”

“Promise it’ll just be that?” He was almost whimpering now. “Ten feet?”

_ He’s really playing this game. _

“I promise,” I said with all the exasperation I could muster. He slowly let go of me, and on my way to the spare room I checked my arm to see if he’d scratched me at all. There was nothing; not even a little red mark where his hand had been. I returned with the thickest blanket I could find and dropped it, folded, by his side.  _ I guess I should at least give him a choice about that. _

He turned his head, still looking afraid. “Can you stay with me…? It’s so cold, the floor isn’t as soft anymore.”

“That’s because you’re getting better, buddy. Aren’t you glad? You can feel things again, feel them like they really are.” Going against my intention, that sentence seemed to make him feel even worse. He shook his head, reaching out for me again, slowly this time.

“N-no. I don’t want to…things, how they really are, I hate them. You—you wanna know how  _ I  _ really am? I’m lonely. That’s how I am. It’s worse. I don’t wanna be alone.  _ You’re _ here. Please, stay with me, I…”

His voice cracked and he trailed off, a black tear running down his face. I shut my eyes to rid myself of that pitiful vision for a second and sat down beside him. He still hadn’t noticed the blanket, or maybe just didn’t feel like taking it.

“Okay. Okay, you’ve driven your point into the ground.”  _ Have I ever seen him this upset?  _ “You aren’t going to be alone, I’ll tell you that. Will you stop crying?”

Though it might not have been the best time to ask, I couldn’t help the question from falling out. He didn’t seem to mind. How could he?

“I think—I think I will.” He sniffed and rose to his elbows again, and I sighed for about the twentieth time that night.

“Jack,  _ please  _ don’t sit up, you could hurt your—”

When I leaned over to help him back down, he took one of my arms and kissed me on the cheek.

“…self…?” My face must have turned a whole sunset; pink, orange, purple, maybe even blue. His didn’t change in the slightest. Before he fell back, he muttered, “Wanted to do that,” and closed his eyes. Everything was frozen now. It felt like the world had stopped spinning for a moment, and I reached up to touch my face. It was wet, almost tacky with  _ something.  _ I looked at my hand.

His tar. It had gone cold.

“C’mon, Sawyer, lay down, you’re…you’re gonna work yourself to death,” he whispered, clutching the blanket I’d laid beside him to his chest. True to his word, he  _ had  _ stopped crying. He actually looked pretty peaceful. If this hadn’t happened before, I would’ve thought he was dying now. All I could do for a while was look at his face, how it was still tense but didn’t hold any visible fear anymore.  _ At least there’s that. _

I pushed his kiss to the back of my mind and lifted him off of the floor, collecting him in my arms before shakily standing up and walking over to my bed. Of course, he would want me to stay with him either way, but he would also have to fall asleep eventually. I was planning to wait it out, then give him a strongly-worded lecture next morning about just how much trouble he’d caused for me. Again.

Jack let out a soft groan as I laid him down, shifting his arms and arching his back like the bed was even more painful than the floor. I scoffed.

“Don’t be like that, you’ll get used to it. It’s a mattress. It’s supposed to be  _ comfortable. _ ”

“It’s s’posed to be.” He was whispering, probably to himself as his eyes fluttered open again. “I…won’t be alone. Not again.”

“Um. Sure. You won’t be. Isn’t that what I said?”

He waited a long time before reaching out a shaky hand and smiling. I couldn’t assume much beyond that he wanted me to take it. “That was nice of you. Won’t you lie down here, next to me?”

_ I think I have a better idea. How about you fall asleep in five minutes and I can actually relax for once? _

“…sure. Fine.”

I told myself over and over again in my head that this was  _ not  _ awkward, that nothing whatsoever was going to happen, that I was humoring him by basically crawling onto my own bed to lay down and face him.  _ Nothing weird happening. Nope, not at all. Just tending to my sick, completely human friend over here. _

At the sight of my face again, though, Jack seemed to get infinitely happier. His entire body relaxed in a way I had never seen before; for a second, I was worried he might start melting. His ears twitched like a rabbit’s, and his eyelids closed almost all the way. He was actually kind of cute. But thinking about why he was acting like this quickly crushed any sense of peace or happiness I felt growing in me.

Over the course of the next several minutes, neither of us fell asleep. We had eventually configured ourselves to form a sort of half-hug situation, his arms wrapped loosely around me and my head just barely tucked under his chin. I could still more or less see his face, and it didn’t make me feel a whole lot better.

After a few minutes where I thought he’d finally gone to sleep, his hand curled into a fist on my back.

“…my boss hates me,” he croaked. “He th-thinks he’s my dad or something but he  _ hates  _ me.” He let out a shudder of a laugh, and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards to form a sort of wavering smile. “Isn’t that stupid?”

I furrowed my eyebrows, wondering if I would ever need to pull myself away from him if the tar started burning again.

“The stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” I muttered into his neck. That seemed to be the answer he was looking for.

* * *

All I could hear were crickets and the rustling of trees far away. I think he might’ve even stopped breathing once he fell asleep. I didn’t have the energy to be worried anymore. If he was double-dead now, I would find out in the morning. I just needed to get out of here and rest, for real this time.

I carefully untangled myself from him and tiptoed out of the room, looking back one last time to make sure he hadn’t woken up. Nothing. I sighed, closing the door behind me and almost tripping over a roll of medical tape I’d left on the floor.

_ Was that there before? _

I considered turning the hall light on to make sure everything was back where it was supposed to be, but I was far too tired to risk Jack waking up again. I settled with tiptoeing around, using my phone’s flashlight to guide me downstairs and to the couch, where I promptly collapsed.

It’s terribly inconvenient how you can never manage to remember your last thoughts before you fall asleep.


	14. I Worry Myself Even More, As Usual

One of my arms had gone numb. Outside was completely silent, at least from where I was laying. I groaned and fumbled for my phone on the coffee table, almost falling off the couch. 4:56.

_ Even falling asleep at midnight, this was the best I could do. _

My several attempts to sit up were fruitless. There was no point, anyway; I didn’t have classes for many, many hours. Jack probably hadn’t woken up yet, and even if he had, it wasn’t my job to greet him at the door with a smile and a cookie. I took a deep breath and fell back down onto the couch, hitting my head on an armrest.

“Shit— _ ow,  _ actually, that really hurt!” I hunched my shoulders and hugged my knees, shivering. “…and now I’m talking to myself. Amazing. I’m having a great time.”

_ I can’t even think up a  _ good  _ sarcastic quip. This is definitely an off-day. _

The front door started to creak open.

I sat up and shifted back, trying to make out a silhouette in the half-dark of morning.

“Jack…?”

The stupid guy let out a sigh of relief. I noticed he’d found his mask again, somehow. “I thought you went off to class, or something.”

“It’s 5:00. I’m not completely insane.”

“I got possessed again, didn’t I?”

_ How forward. _

“…yeah.”

I jumped in my spot when he made his way towards me, and quickly started praying that he wouldn’t notice. No luck; he switched on the lights, lifted his mask and wiped an oncoming drop of tar from his eyelid, concern etched into his face. “Is everything okay? Did I do something?”

“N-no, it’s fine. I’m just…recovering, I guess.” I muttered the last part to myself, hoping he hadn’t caught it all.

“From what?”

“…something. I-I just don’t think you’d want to know—”

“Well, if it’s not me, then why aren’t you—?”

“You’re not the only thing I have to deal with in my life! Get over yourself, would you?”

I almost flinched after saying that, all too aware of how mean it came out. He raised his eyebrows in a moment of pure surprise before glaring.

“Okay. So it’s like that.”

“Jack, I’m—trust me, that didn’t come out how I meant it to.”

“No, no, I get it. I mean, why feel concerned for you after being possessed and stripped of  _ all rational thought _ for a night, right?”

“Come on, man, that’s not—”

“You can take care of yourself just fine. Doctor Rafael, healer sensation, gets by on her own without anybody else!”

“I’m  _ sorry _ . Hey, wait—!” I stood up and grabbed his arm as he started walking towards the front door. “Don’t leave. I’m sorry, I really am. I shouldn’t have said that, I just don’t want you getting mixed up in stuff you shouldn’t be.”

“But it  _ does  _ have to do with me. Doesn’t it? Hiding your feelings won’t make this any better, you know that.”

“I—yeah, I do, but this could really…” I lost my train of thought the moment I glanced down at his hand. More specifically, the tar on his hand. My eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“It was cold.”

“…what?”

I sighed and let go of him, collapsing back onto the couch and effectively backing myself into a corner. “Last night,” I muttered at the wall straight ahead, “while I was patching you up…actually, it was mostly after. Everything was set, I just had to get you to fall asleep. You kept trying to sit up, and I knew you were going to hurt yourself doing that, your wounds would’ve opened up again. But then you…um,  _ I  _ touched your face. Don’t really know what led up to it. But the tar was cold. I-I don’t know if it’s because of the weather, or if that’s just what happens when you get all messed up like that, I kind of pushed it to the back of my mind because then a bunch of even weirder things happened—”

“Like what?”

_ You’ll definitely freak out if I tell you. _

I closed my eyes. “It’s not important. I just…well, do you know why? Why it started running cold? I was kind of scared to touch it again, I don’t know how long it stayed like that.”

Jack tilted his head and sat down next to me, shifting around like he was trying to find a way to get comfortable. The corners of his mouth were fixed in an awkward, embarrassed smile he couldn’t seem to get rid of. I could almost feel his frustration in waves. Eventually he sighed and shook his head, hands curled into fists on the couch cushions.  _ This is not good,  _ everything screamed.

“Well?” I crossed my arms when he failed to respond for a solid minute. He raised his eyebrows and fiddled with the zipper on his sweater.

“Hm. Uh, I…don’t think you’re ready to hear the answer.”

“What? Now I want to know even more! Come on!” I leaned forward to catch his gaze as he turned further and further away from me like an angry toddler. After a few more incessant pleas, he snapped back around and pointed at me accusingly. He was practically bristling.

“See?! Now you know how it feels!”

My eyes widened. “Now  _ you  _ know how it feels to have somebody pester you for answers! Look, we can play the blame game all day, but you know what that whole tar situation was about, and I can’t even begin to describe what happened—”

“Stop! Stop talking, just…” He rubbed his hands together like he was washing them, pushing his hair back and patting it down again, taking a few deep, whistle-like breaths. A tiny black drop started trailing down his face from the nose, and he sniffed once in an attempt to stop it.

“Let’s drop this. Just forget anything ever happened. Okay?”

_ Whatever happened to the “don’t hide your feelings, Sawyer” guy? _

“I don’t think either of us are going to be real good at that,” I muttered. Jack coughed into a hand and glared at nothing.

“Well, if we don’t try, we’ll just end up at each other’s throats again. We both get to keep our secrets, at least, until  _ one _ of us”—he shot me a pointed look—“decides to open up.”

I scoffed. “You think this will matter in a week? You’re going to remember last night eventually, anyway. I’m the one who’ll never find out…” A tiny smile found its way to me as I realized exactly what was going to be replaying in his head soon. “Oh, just wait until it comes back to you. So embarrassing. It’s not even my problem at this point.”

All of a sudden, the beginnings of a smirk crossed his face. “Sure, it isn’t. I’ll bet whatever I did,  _ you  _ were as soft and gentle as you always are with me.” He leaned over to flick me on the nose, smugly watching as I shifted back and tried to come up with a response to that. My ears started burning and my gaze snapped to the floor, the walls, anywhere other than him. After a minute, just when I thought I might develop a stutter, he broke out in soft laughter.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I making you  _ uncomfortable?” _

_ You dick! This was supposed to be the other way around! _ I pressed a hand to my cheek.  _ Was I always this warm? _

“You’re not funny,” I said through gritted teeth. His laughter subsided and he wiped a black tear away with his pinkie.

“I think I am. Either way, your face definitely had it covered.”

“You asshole!” I launched a torn-up throw pillow at his face, secretly relieved that this meant we were still friends.

_ Just try not to make things weird once you see what you did… _

* * *

“Are you  _ really  _ sure? Like, 100%? It just snowed a ton out there.”

“I’ll be fine. Trust me, I need to get back.”

“Do you?”

Jack fixed me with a funny look. Usually, I’d ask that question to one of my friends as a teasing, psychological trick. But right now I couldn’t be sure whether he was telling the truth or if something else was afoot. What that “something else” could possibly be, I had no clue. I just knew that nobody, under any circumstances, should go out in jeans and a hoodie right after a sudden whiteout the night before—especially if they’d suffered severe trauma to the chest and  _ just  _ got patched up. Jack fiddled with a sleeve, a look of panic flashing across his face when he found no vast array of surgical tools strapped to his arm. He sighed.

“What do you mean? Of course I do. My boss’ll kill me if I don’t.”

I folded my arms and narrowed my eyes. “And the cold will kill you if you do. Look, I get that you didn’t want to end up here in the first place. Something happened, you got possessed, you…got hurt, one way or another. So I had to help. But…” I trailed off and sank into the couch, unsure of what I was trying to say. Or rather,  _ how  _ I could say it without sounding like an entitled dick.  _ “I want to spend more time with the real you”? “It’s rude to just  _ leave _ like that after I treat you, like you’re just some stranger of a patient”? _

“…I don’t want this to only be about me healing you. I—God, that sounds weird. But it’s the truth. You happy? Not gonna get on my back for ‘hiding my feelings’ anymore?” I wiggled my fingers mockingly in the air, my mission to not sound mean turning counterproductive. Jack raised an eyebrow, looking sheepish.

“Uh…yeah, actually. I am happy.” His face turned stony just as quickly, though, and he looked to the window. “I want to stay here longer. Really. But I know that if I don’t get back, he’ll blame me for slacking off, or whatever. Even if I got held up by all the snow. Even if it’s not my fault.”

“So why not  _ make _ it your fault, if it doesn’t matter?”

He took a moment to process that, seeming to weigh the options in his head before a tiny smile broke through on his face. He let out a sigh, as if giving in to some devilish temptation. In a way, he sort of was.

“Fine. I guess. But you’re not keeping me locked up here for the rest of the day,” he said, messing up the front of my hair with a smirk. I patted it back down and stuck my tongue out at him.

“Hey, just until it’s safe to go outside like a normal person! I’ve got classes later, anyway…unless I keep you prisoner in the basement until I get back?” I bit back a laugh, grabbing his arms and holding them behind his back in an iron grip. He was able to throw me off, anyway, and pointed accusingly at me with a gasp.

“Who’s the monster now?!”

We both burst into quiet laughter, and once it subsided I headed upstairs to retrieve my textbooks.

There was a profound silence as we sat, huddled around the coffee table in concentration—well, all that was mostly me. Jack, on the other hand, was standing on the other side, nowhere near as fixated as he was confused. It seemed like he was trying not to let it show, but an expectant look ended up seeping out into his face. I glanced up, unable to fight a smile.

“What? I don’t have all these laying around for nothing.”

He shook his head. “I don’t get you. You were so desperate to hang out, and all we’re doing is…this? Not that I’m judging,” he added hastily. I let out a chuckle.

“Well, what did you have in mind?”

He held up his hands and raised his eyebrows. “Nothing! I was just expecting it to be more like, ‘coffee and cheesy stories over your kitchen table’ time? Y’know, like we usually do.”

I sighed. “Not today, kidney-boy. USMLE’s going to kick my ass in a couple months if I don’t get myself together. Studying time.”

“US-what now?”

“Nevermind. I’m just…swamped, I guess is how people my age should put it. Though I feel like  _ going batshit insane with stress _ would be more accurate. Take your pick.”

Jack scoffed and sat down next to me, grazing one of the textbook pages with a fingertip. “Consider yourself lucky I’m letting you get away with calling me  _ kidney-boy. _ ”

“Consider that considered,” I shot back. I could almost make out a smile on his face before he cleared his throat.

“W-well, I suppose now that I’m here, I could…y’know. Help. If that’s even possible.”

His sudden nervousness managed to pierce through my rocky exterior and tug at my heartstrings. “Aw, so we’re study-buddies now?” I rolled a pencil back and forth on the table, then rested my head in laced fingers. “If only you understood any of what I was talking about.”

“Rude.”

“I’m just saying! I don’t know, are you sure you want to? It’s kind of…oh, what was that thing I said to Leigh yesterday…?” I tapped the pencil on my chin in thought. Jack hesitated the slightest bit, as if unsure that he was remembering it right.

“Tough shit for circus peanuts?”

I snapped my fingers. “That’s it. Well, a medical degree isn’t exactly what I’d call  _ peanuts,  _ but you know what I mean.”

He shrugged. “Eh. It might make the time go by faster, at least while some of the snow melts.” He took a glance out the window with a shocked frown. “Jesus, I was really going to go out into that mess? How’d I even manage to get here last night?”

“It was a whiteout. Nobody really expected it, I think you came by just as it started.”

He clicked his tongue with a quick raise of the eyebrow. “Good thing I was all numb then, I guess.” Turning his attention back to the various books stacked on the table, he seemed to get into a zone I’d only seen accessed by stressed-out freshmen at the end of the first marking period. His little… _ comment _ about college debt last night suddenly made a whole lot more sense; he used to be just a regular student like me, right?

“So, what are we looking at here?” he asked in a mutter. I sucked in a breath and stole a glance at the top book’s cover.

“I suppose our cramming session’s gonna start with neuroanatomy. Nerves, the brain, all that junk.”

Jack nodded gravely. “Maybe you can use your newfound knowledge to rewire my brain, and stop me from getting all loopy like that.” At my lack of a response, he tilted his head subtly in my direction and held out his hands. “I’m joking.”

“Oh, okay.”

“C’mon, I wouldn’t try and make you do  _ that. _ ”

“I know. I was just going to say, none of this stuff is really ‘newfound,’” I said, waving my pencil in a circle around the table. “I’m probably just going to write stuff down that hasn’t stuck yet, make sure I’ve got all the procedures down—hell, maybe make flash cards if it comes to that.”

I didn’t wait for a definitive “go” from either of us to start writing from the book. There was one chapter in particular that kept tripping me up as the hour went by; I probably hadn’t reviewed it too much earlier this year, and on top of that, it was one of the most complicated, most precise of subjects I’d read about. Looking at my notebook after I was done with that section gave me a headache. Jack was up to quiz me on whatever he could, insistent that it was  _ totally fine _ even though he screwed up his face in utter confusion every ten seconds from the stuff he was reading aloud—at one point, I could’ve sworn he whispered “what the fuck?” under his breath, immediately glancing up to make sure I hadn’t heard.

“Um. Yeah, I think I’m gonna take a break, if you want to come along,” he said after a few minutes of complete silence between us. I nodded, rubbing one of my eyes and looking past him at the wall about 10 feet away. I’d been staring at my books and notes for so long, I needed to readjust my vision.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

We both headed to the kitchen by instinct, with me grabbing an oat snack bar from the cabinet and him digging through shelves to find a glass. He filled it up with water from the tap, and almost immediately my mind flashed to what had happened last night when I dragged him here. I had to stop myself from smacking the glass out of his hand, instead rushing around the table to grab his wrist as he raised it to his mouth.

“What are you doing?”

He took a step back in surprise, widening his eyelids before looking at the glass, uncertain.

“Um…drinking? What, is it poisoned?”

“You—you can’t. It burns you. Doesn’t it?” My voice was shaking for some reason. Jack tilted his head with a concerned expression, nodding slowly and removing my hand from his wrist.

“I think I  _ can,  _ Shot-Nerves McGee.”

“…you can…how?” I winced in dreaded anticipation as he downed the whole glass without so much as a blink, shrugging as if he hadn’t noticed my tiny jolt of anxiety.

“Maybe ‘cause I’m not fully demon, you know? That kind of ‘purity melts evil’ bullshit only works on real ones.” A smile crossed his face as he snapped his fingers in realization. “Like the boss! Oh, next opportunity I get, I’m collecting buckets of this stuff.”

“But when you were—”

“Possessed? Yeah, that’s different. I’m pretty sure whatever kind of tar or smoke’s in me when that happens, it’s…” He waved a hand vaguely in the air, as if trying to find the right word. “Essence? Yeah, demon essence, leftover from dear old boss himself. Kinda gross, come to think of it. But I was able to take a shower without dissolving like that witch from Oz, remember?”

I folded my arms close to my chest, nodding and looking at the floor. “…yeah. You were. I just—sorry, I overreacted.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not that big of a deal. Like…at all.” He wiped his mouth, leaned against the counter and grinned deviously. “In fact, I’d say it’s cute that you  _ care  _ about me.”

Every ounce of embarrassment I’d been feeling completely shriveled up within the second. “Oh, my god, this again!”

_ “Sawyer’s got a heart,” _ he singsonged, lightly patting me on the head as he made his way out of the kitchen. I groaned and fought the urge to either tackle him to the ground or rip out several locks of my hair.

“Come on, it’s not even…of course I  _ care  _ about you, dude, what do you take me for? Besides, I’m not trying to start my day off by mopping up a bunch of half-demon goop on the floor if that all went sideways.”

I heard a few chuckles from the living room. “Okay, okay, if you say so…”

* * *

Another couple hours passed between then and the next complaint, to my surprise. After all that “Sawyer has a heart” business, we both didn’t have a lot of places to go from there. We mainly sat in silence, Jack fiddling with anything non lethal nearby as a half-assed attempt to cure his boredom, and me continuing to numb my mind with pages and pages of neurology. I realized the irony of it all after those few hours and felt the urge to slap my forehead creep up on me.

Jack furrowed his eyebrows once we’d reached a certain double-page spread in  _ A Comprehensive Review of Neurology, _ and tapped the diagram’s head.

“Oh. There are pictures now.”

I leaned down to fold my arms on the table. “So you weren’t paying attention for the last, like, 200 pages?”

“Well, no, but I can actually kind of understand this one.” He shifted in his seat to get a better look at our lovely model—a body with all its skin, muscle, and other tissue stripped away to reveal all of the neural pathways. “These nerves in the arms…that one is connected to the funny bone.  _ That’s  _ the one you see on the surface, when you first cut into someone…” He pointed at the forearm, muttering to himself as if desperately trying to get a grip on this subject through anything he already knew.  _ Well, that’s kind of what all of us are doing, isn’t it. _

“…yeah, if any of  _ these  _ get cut, you’re as good as dead,” he said as he placed a finger on each of ten different nerves all across the body. I let out an appreciative hum.

“‘Enough to get you by,’ huh? I guess you weren’t lying to me.”

Jack glanced up. “What?”

“October. You came by my house, gave me my book back, said you knew ‘enough to get you by.’ About the body, organs, bones, all that.”

He fixed me with a funny look. “How do you remember that?”

I opened my mouth to answer, quickly realizing I’d just backed myself into a corner.  _ Why  _ did  _ I remember that? _

“Eh. Steel trap of a mind, I suppose. I mean, I kind of have to be. Who knows what’d happen if I forgot a medical procedure, or which tools fit with which sort of operation, or…you know.” While I blew up a small portion of my bangs, Jack frowned and tilted his head.

“What’s the point of all that preparation, anyway? You can’t just…do some digging, find out what’s wrong and put it back together?” He awkwardly linked his fingers as if to prove his point, and I laughed.

“I mean, okay. I guess this is a cannibal I’m talking to, you haven’t really had to sort this stuff out. You just eat what you can and go.”

Jack narrowed his eyelids. “It’s a lot more complicated than that, you know.”

“Well, so is this,” I said, closing the book and drumming my fingers along its spine. “You can’t just ‘do some digging,’ as you so eloquently put it. If I even thought of being that careless during an operation, then  _ beeeeep!” _ I tilted my head to the side, widening my eyes dramatically. “That’s a dead patient.”

“Oh, come on, you can admit it around me. Most of this is just trivial human bullshit,” he said, gesturing to the contents of my coffee table as if it were a heap of flaming garbage. “You guys really love making things more complicated for yourselves, don’t you?”

I gave in to the temptation and groaned, flopping back onto my seat.

“It’s so stupid, right? I mean, if you’ve got shaky hands, or your vision’s a little off, you might as well be out of a job here! Too bad medicine and  _ magic _ don’t really go hand-in-hand, there might be somebody I could go to for that.” I twirled my pencil between my fingers and tossed a knowing look his way. “You know, like one of those ‘live, laugh, love’ soccer moms who believe their crystals will take care of all that business.”

“Oh, no, there is.”

“...what?”

He shrugged like he didn’t expect me to think anything of it. “There are magical healers. Professionals, even. I’m not the only weird, supernatural thing out there, you know.”

I let that sink in and then turned to Jack, grabbing him by the sides of his hood and pulling him over so we were face-to-face.

“Take me to them.”

He frowned after a short minute, something shifting in the color of his face. It was subtle, but I was close enough to notice. “...oh. Uh, I really don’t think you’d want that—”

“Jack, if there’s somebody out there who can make this all go faster,  _ no shit _ would I want to meet them!”

“I just—I don’t know about it! You probably wouldn’t be welcome there, it’s not a nice place. And it’s kind of personal this time. You’d have to get used to a lot of new things, and most of them won’t seem so great and I have a feeling you’re not going to take it well—”

“That’s absurd, when have I not taken anything well?”

Jack fixed me with a tired look before raising a finger. I got the feeling he had a heap of answers to that, but was keeping his mouth shut for both of our sanity’s sake.

“Fine. But we’re going to have to go back.”

“Back…where?”

“To the park. The forest trail, the fake one.” He sighed, put the mask on, and pulled his hood over his head. “We’re going to the demon realm.”


	15. The Demon Realm

He said he’d meet me there, since he couldn’t take chances going out in the open without his disguise; he’d been so recently possessed, we had no idea whether the boss would let him off the hook yet for…well, anything. Uptight theatre nerd Jack Nichols was off the table for now—at least, until he talked things out with whoever controlled the whole disguise thing.

We planned to wait a day or two before we actually went anywhere, and in the meantime I got myself mentally prepared. I made sure to bring minimal supplies on the day of, only packing my bag with a first aid kit, pad of paper and pencil. He hadn’t told me what to bring, which annoyed me greatly when I realized this probably wasn’t going to be a quick five-minute trip. All he said was, “Don’t wear your Sunday shoes,” as if I had any.  _ Or as if I’d wear those on a walk through the forest, in the middle of winter, the first few days after a huge snowfall! _

I tried wrestling on a coat over my sweater, but the world apparently didn’t feel like cooperating with me today. I had a feeling that things were going to get a lot more inconvenient than just that. I was going to  _ the demon realm _ , the place where Jack supposedly lived, where…well, demons lived. I’d already gotten a strong enough message that his boss, Chernobog or something, didn’t like me, and I hadn’t even met the damn guy yet. For a moment, I considered putting a cross around my neck just in case, and not five seconds later I was pulling at my hair, wondering how in the world my Catholic grandparents had managed to rub off on me from approximately 1,000 miles away.

By the time I reached the park, my hair felt like it’d been frozen in the shape of a modern-art lampshade. My teeth were chattering, and I realized my fatal error of wearing sneakers outside on a day like this. I spotted Jack sitting on a nearby bench—a real one, evidently—and drumming his fingers on his knees. He hadn’t bothered to get dressed for the cold weather, and I asked myself why I was surprised; he probably couldn’t even feel it at this point. But as I got closer, I noticed his arms were shaking the slightest bit, his lips paler and bluer than usual, his left eyelid twitching. It was classic Jack, always looking like he was one second away from cold-blooded murder.

He looked up, raising his eyebrows the tiniest bit when his gaze fell upon my hair, though I had no idea what it looked like at this point. He started talking before I could ask.

“So…uh, are you sure you’re ready?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I looked at him quizzically, hoping he wouldn’t notice how desperate I was to get out of the cold. He sighed.

“I told you, you’re just going to have to get used to some new things. And most of them…uh, they’re not pretty.”

“I remember that. Can we go now?” At his hesitant look, I reached up to touch his shoulder. “Hey. I’m going to be okay in there. Are you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I-I just get annoyed real easy here. Fuckers in there know how to push my buttons,” he mumbled, looking into the forest with a bit of an empty stare. He shook his head with another sigh. “Okay. Let’s just go.”

We ducked underneath some of the lower tree branches as we made our way…somewhere. Jack seemed eager to take the most difficult path possible, leading me down to an obscured, thick area of trees that felt more wild and unruly than the rest of the forest. I hurdled over overgrown roots, fallen branches, hell, maybe even a few dead animals. At a certain point the trees seemed to get faker and faker, like they were either made of plastic or thin air. Jack walked through what looked to be a sturdy oak as if it were nothing. I remembered the trails and benches that turned out to be holograms the first time we came here, and narrowed my eyes as I struggled to catch up with him.

“Uh—just to be clear, we  _ are  _ going to the demon realm, right—?”

“Shh.” One of his hands grazed my shoulder as if making sure I was really there. He squinted through the dark patch of trees ahead of us; if we kept on, we would be walking blindfolded. One of his ears perked up like a dog’s, and he took one step forward before flinching back.

“Yep. It’s here. Just…” He let out a tired grunt. “One second.”

Before I could respond, he lifted me by the waist and set me back down a few feet from where I was, the motion too quick to embarrass me all that much. I still felt an uncomfortable warmth creep into my face, even with the cold air whipping at me from all directions. He didn’t bother explaining himself, so I took a chance and looked down.

We were standing in the middle of a circle made of ash. The area inside seemed to burn away the mud and leaves we’d tracked, and the soles of my feet grew uncomfortably warm. I gasped and made to back out, but Jack held onto my arm with a stern look.

“Don’t move. It won’t burn you…too much.”

I shot him a glare with some fresh panic mixed in. “That’s  _ not _ as reassuring as you think it is!”

“Trust me, you’ll be fine. Plenty of humans used to come here, most of ‘em made it out okay.”

“And the others…?”

He flashed one of those annoying, wry grins of his. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What’d they even come here for, what—what do you mean by ‘used to’?”

“I said don’t worry about it.”

True to his word, the ground had stopped burning my feet. It cooled so abruptly, I was convinced for a moment that if I looked down, the bottoms of my sneakers would be completely intact.  _ “Don’t wear your Sunday shoes,” huh? Maybe I should just strap cinder blocks to my feet next time. _

Hot steam was blasted from the circle’s edge, grazing my legs and nearly giving me a first-degree burn. I flinched away, deciding maybe it was better to step further into the circle than try to get back out. My head started to feel…lighter. It took me a moment to realize a warm gust of wind was blowing my hair upward, the moisture it had gathered from the winter air evaporating within seconds. I closed my eyes and felt a shiver travel up my spine, the numbness in my fingertips ebbing away.

“Anything else?” I asked in a mutter. “Or are you going to blowtorch my face off now?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” said Jack, who looked virtually unaffected by all this. The only difference I could see was that his tar seemed to have gotten thinner, dripping down his face like actual tears instead of the weird goop I’d grown accustomed to. “We’re in the realm now. That was basically cleaning you off, we can step out now.”

I rubbed my arms and took a tentative step out of the circle, relief flooding into me followed by the sharp coldness I’d been surrounded with before. “Why’d you have to lift me up like that, anyway? You could’ve just told me to step inside…”

“You might have disturbed it, or something. I don’t know,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head. “Let’s just keep going.”

_ Wait, so we’re  _ there _ now? No door, no portal, nothing lowering us into the ground? What did that circle thing do? _

I brushed myself off and continued forward with him, feeling something change in the air as we kept going. It definitely  _ felt _ like the “demon realm” now, but in a way I couldn’t place. Contrary to what I’d expected, we weren’t enveloped in a never-ending darkness when we continued through the more obscured part of the forest. It was almost the opposite; our surroundings turned a sandy color instead of pitch black, pillars of stripped wood marked every twenty or so feet on either side of us…

I looked up. There were no more trees, but I still couldn’t find the sun. The sky was a dark, muted shade of blue, as if somebody had layered night on day. Something caught in my throat and I miraculously resisted the urge to cough, taking several slow breaths and looking to Jack for some sort of explanation.

“It’s so dry here,” I said between wheezes. He shrugged.

“That’s how they like it best, I suppose.”

_ They really take that whole “no water” thing seriously, don’t they? Who even  _ is _ “they”? _

The pillars eventually disappeared, giving way to a series of dark hallways stretching up for what seemed to be miles on both sides. The “walls” of this place, if they could even be called that, funnelled out until there was an even wider stretch of land in front of us, its size akin to a small village. It looked to be as densely populated as one, too; I spotted a total of fifteen individual beings ahead, most of them too disfigured or animal-like to be considered  _ people _ .

I heard plenty of whispers as we kept forward. Most of them were remarks on me being human, or Jack not being particularly wanted here; I even thought I heard somebody mutter to themselves, “Highest be damned, it’s  _ him _ again.” Jack’s head snapped in their direction and he bared his teeth, not earning much of a reaction from the other demon but seeming to think it sufficient anyways. None of that bothered me—no, it was a familiar-looking lady and her companion in our path that managed to catch my attention. The woman held a hand to her mouth, mimicking a gasp.

“It’s…she!”

I was about to give her a funny look when I noticed her partner had all red eyes, and a chillingly wide smile to boot. A not-so-fond memory snapped back to me from earlier this year, and I pointed to them with my deadliest glare.

“Hey, you’re those people-turned-horror-show who made fun of me while I was handcuffed to a bench!”

“People?” The lady giggled like she was watching a dog chase its own tail. “Goodness me, it really  _ is  _ new!”

“Hold on a second,  _ it?” _

Jack squeezed my arm. “Just keep walking,” he said through clenched teeth.

“You underestimate me, Jack. I can’t get arrested for fighting a demon, and you have no idea how much rage I’ve been keeping in here for the past couple years.”

“You and me both, man, but  _ keep walking. _ ” He glanced back as we continued past them, with an expression I couldn’t decipher. “Don’t make it personal. They hate humans, like to watch them squirm.”

_ Oh, so it’s only a problem when  _ I  _ stand up for myself? _ I scratched my arms and shot him a petty glare. “Like a certain someone I know.”

“Come on, I don’t hate them that much. Besides, if it’s just Vickson and their little pet we’re going to be dealing with here, we should be fine.”

The demon, Vickson, laughed again and gestured toward us as if to say,  _ oh, stop it. _ “Good luck, handcuff girl! I wouldn’t count on staying alive for long here.”

“Shut up,” Jack muttered, starting to look just as annoyed as me.  _ Not so easy ignoring people, is it? _

“What kinds of things do you usually see here, anyway?” As I glanced around the vast, not-quite-manmade hall, my voice wavered the smallest bit, however hard I tried to keep it steady. “Is…is there anyone like you? Half-demon, or used to be human, or something?”

Jack’s mouth formed a thin line. “Not that I know of.” He almost seemed to regret saying it. “Whoever feels like trying to cutting me down that day makes it a point to say how  _ special  _ I am, and how there’s  _ never been anything like me, _ and whatever. It’s definitely bullshit. They just do it to annoy me.” He gave in to a tiny, crooked smile. “It’s kind of funny, actually—my boss gets so mad when they say stuff like that, he hisses and threatens them and cuts them down to size, almost catches on fire. The one useful thing he’s done for me.” His voice dropped to a mutter as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Doesn’t seem to have a problem saying all those things himself, though.”

I raised an eyebrow.  _ At least he’s being defended. I think. _ “Have you ever actually told me what demons are? Like, what qualifies as one? I never really thought any of those famous, named demons existed, and if they did…” I took one other glance at my surroundings, eyes being toured from giant dark hall to giant dark hall, resting on the very pavement-like ground we were standing on.

“…I’m not so sure this place is where they’d make home.”

Jack sniffed. “‘Course it is. It’s practically a breeding ground for them, it’s all dry and dark and lonely. Plenty of ‘named’ demons live here.”

“Like…?”

“Well, I don’t know! Just name one. It’ll probably come up here, who knows how many religions’ demons stay in this place.” His nose scrunched up in disgust, and I had to stifle a laugh.

“Okay, uh…Beelzebub?”

Instantly, he recoiled. “Oh, god, I hate that guy. Boss made me room next to him for a year. Never wanted to drink soup again.”

_ I won’t even ask. _

“So, these beings, they’re like people? You can just walk up to them and have a conversation, no weird mist or summoning or anything?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Some of them. There are more things like Vickson here than you’d think, things like…well, just look around. They’re the more physical type. Now, my boss?  _ Lord Chernobog? _ You’ll have to do a little work if you even want to see him with your own two eyes.”

A small voice gasped nearby. “He  _ said  _ it! He said—”

“Goodness me, don’t go around repeating every single name you hear!”

What appeared to be a mother and her child were passing by, looking at us with varying intensities of disbelief—the child wonderstruck, and the mother disapproving.

“Oh, well, look at that. You certainly don’t want to repeat a thing  _ this _ boy says, he’s that hybrid the Highest is so fond of. Come along, now, Lucy…”

The kid, Lucy, had to be pulled away as they stared at the two of us, admiration glimmering in their eyes. When they blinked, their eyelids folded vertically.

“What about the human, Ma, it said something about Uncle Beelz—!”

“Come  _ on,  _ Lucy!” the mother said through gritted teeth, tugging harshly on the sleeve of their shirt. She turned to me with tired eyes. “I am so sorry about…” At a second glance, she jumped slightly, and her entire body seemed to glitch and flicker with black sparks. “O-oh! Oh, no, what did he do now? You really are human, aren’t you—”

“Hey, how about you learn to mind your own business?” Jack tapped my shoulder and threw a nasty glare towards the mother. After a moment of silence, he looked as if he were fighting back a smile and nodded to the child, Lucy.

“And maybe not be such an asshole to your kid. Ever think of that?”

The older demon’s face contorted in anger—literally. It was like somebody printed her features onto a sheet of paper and crumpled it up into a tiny ball. My eyes widened as I took a step back and held my arms. Her gaze traveled shiftily between Jack and me.

“I’d stay away from this one if I were you, human. Gets too involved with  _ your lot _ .”

_ My lot?! _

Something seemed to shift in Jack’s gaze, though you couldn’t tell from just looking at his face. I didn’t get the chance to pull him along and tell him to forget this lady before he shrugged with a blank expression.

“Okay.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “What are you—”

“I guess you’ll just have to roam for a bit. Sorry, human,” he said, turning to me with an unusual smile. A smile that looked as if it were on the verge of something much, much worse. I opened my mouth to ask him what in  _ literal hell _ he was doing, but he leaned close and muttered, “Just walk around a couple minutes, I’ll be with you. I think I’m going to have some fun here.”

The way he was smiling still put me off, but I knew better than to argue on his home turf. I backed away slowly, watching with shriveled confidence as he cracked his knuckles and said in a mocking voice, “Alright,  _ Mamma Elskan, _ if you want to talk about me like some rotten teen…”

* * *

The last thing I’d expected, or wanted, was to be left alone in a realm full of demons who probably wanted me dead. Jack had abandoned me, temporarily or not, for the sake of some petty fight with a lady named Elskan (if that was even her name; it could have been an insult, or something else) and told me to “roam a bit” as if I’d know what to do with that. I just ended up backing further and further away from the two of them bickering until I bumped into someone and felt my heart jump into my throat.

“Oh, my god, I’m sorry—!” I practically squeaked as I turned around, finding to my surprise…

“No, no need to say all that,” the human said, holding up her hands and smiling awkwardly. “It’s my fault. Really.”

I didn’t hurry to respond; honestly, what could I have said? I ended up stepping back in the other direction, looking her up and down just to make sure she was really human. Her clothes didn’t help much—a simply decorated, high-necked dress with flowing, translucent sleeves that made her look either like a menacing nun or a cultist—but everything else was able to make up for it. She had silky black hair pulled into a bun on the top of her head, warm eyes that seemed to change color the longer I looked at them…it wasn’t enough information to know for sure, but I felt something in my gut telling me she was a person. A real, normal, human person.

I had to snap myself out of that little trance and focus back on what was really happening. The girl (well, she was probably a good few years older than me, so  _ woman _ ) was looking at me with an unsure frown. I quickly pulled myself together and stepped back again.

“I—um, sorry, I just didn’t think I’d see another human here. That was weird of me, to stare, I—”

“You’re quite alright. Here—Nyx Smith. Healer of the occult.” She held out her hand to shake, but I was hesitant. Before I could explain myself, she tilted her head with a sympathetic look.

“Oh, don’t worry, it won’t hurt you. No claws here,” she said, half-joking, wiggling her fingers in the air. I forced a laugh and shook her hand. Something in the back of my mind found that name, Nyx Smith, oddly familiar.

“Healer?” My brow furrowed. “ _ Occult? _ So…you work on demons?”

“I suppose that’s the lot of them. Though you have no idea how many walk into my office, can’t stand when I say that word in reference to them. Find it too harsh, too evil-sounding. You know, many of the beings who end up here, it’s not their fault.” God, those eyes were about to swallow me whole. They were caring. Empathetic. Too empathetic. I felt like at any moment, she could crawl into my body and walk around in it just for a taste of my life. Nyx cleared her throat when she saw I was getting lost again.

“And you are…?”

“Sawyer. Rafael.” For whatever reason, I trusted her so much that I couldn’t have cared less whether she knew my name or not. It might have been the need for human interaction that was growing in me like a wildfire by the second; I internally scolded myself for getting this desperate this quickly.  _ It hasn’t even been an hour! For all you know, this lady is some sort of skinwalker who’ll tear you to bits at any moment! _

I shook myself of that thought. “You’re a healer,” I repeated like an idiot. “That’s…cool. It’s perfect, actually, that’s kind of what I came here for.”

“Oh?” Nyx tilted her head again. “And what are you in the human world? I’ll tell you what I am;  _ wanted. _ ”

I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not. I wasn’t even sure exactly what she meant by that, but based on her face, she found it hilarious. She was practically biting back laughter. I let out a weak chuckle and scratched the back of my neck.

“Um, honestly, not much different? I’m in med school. Studying to become a doctor.”

“That sounds wonderful! Uh, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you get—”

She took one glance over my shoulder and stopped cold, her face white as a sheet. After a good five seconds passed and I was about to ask her what the hell she was looking at, she mustered a polite smile, the corners of her mouth twitching, and folded her hands. “…Jack. What a pleasure,” she said, the spaces between each word like a sharp, white stamp. I turned my head and sure enough, Jack was standing there, one hand in his pocket and one hovering over my shoulder like at any moment he would have to drag me away in a hurry. He was plenty bloodied up, his aggressive high having been long exterminated. I wondered with frustration and worry what had happened back there with him and the lady he was berating. He hunched his shoulders, eyelids narrowing.

“Nyx,” he said, his voice almost a hiss. I remembered with haste what he’d said a couple nights ago when he dropped by my house, all drunk and horribly wounded:

_ “My mask goes to Nyx Smith, so she remembers all the  _ shit _ I had to go through because of her.” _

The silence that followed was unbearable, and I had no choice but to look back and forth between the two with an eventual “…oh.”

“Let’s go, Sawyer. I’m sure there’s some other,  _ better _ healer around here that can teach you,” Jack said, grabbing onto my sleeve and pulling in one direction. I stayed adamantly in place while Nyx folded her arms with a bitter look.

“Sawyer, is he bothering you? I’d be happy to take this conversation somewhere else, if you—”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m his friend, I kind of signed up for this.” I held up my hands with what I hoped came off as a reassuring smile, before turning to Jack and giving him a stern look. “But we’re not going to be  _ rude,  _ now are we?”

“Rude?! She—” he cut himself off and took a breath, barely holding it together. “I’ll tell you later, okay?” He ran a hand through his hair before pointing at Nyx accusingly. “If you touch a hair on her head, I swear…”

“Jack, shut up and chill out. I can take care of myself,” I said, a tad bit more confident than before.

“Maybe back home, you can. This place—”

“I’m fine! You two hate each other, you’ll tell me why later, I get it. But I’m not trying to have my day ruined right now, so can we just…” I made a few vague gestures with my hands before shooing him away. “Talk? Please?”

“Fine, fine, okay,” he muttered, walking away to be sulky somewhere else. I shook my head and sighed.

“Sorry about that. So you guys have…uh,  _ history, _ I take it.”

“He listens to you?”

I caught a glimpse of Nyx’s surprised face before she tried to cover it up. I shrugged.

“I mean, yeah. Honestly, I’m kind of surprised he went away at all. Sticks around a little too long sometimes.”

Nyx tilted her head. “He  _ likes  _ being around you,” she said, as if in disbelief. I laughed nervously.

“I wouldn’t say that.” After a moment, I glanced to the side in defeat. “Well, okay, I would kind of say that. What are you gonna do, I’m a people magnet,” I said as ironically as I could. She widened her eyes in sympathy.

“He really has changed, hasn’t he?”

“Eh. I wouldn’t know. How do you two know each other, anyway? Did you spill your drink on him at a party or something?”

“Sawyer, you know neither of us can really—”

“That was a joke.”

“Oh. Well, if you want to know the truth, we never actually…knew each other. Not like that. He’s angry at me purely by association. Jennifer was my younger sister.”

I wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about that. It took me a while to even understand what she meant, I had to rack my brain for a clearer answer.

“…of course. Nyx  _ Smith _ . Wait, how are you still alive? Didn’t he…you know.” I considered making the throat-slitting gesture, but figured it might be a little insensitive. Besides, she was already talking again.

“I was unbelievably sick that day. Bedridden, it was some strange disease that none of the doctors could identify. It’s sort of ironic; there I was, the one that had introduced Jenny to our savior, our  _ ruler,  _ and she was summoning with everybody else on the big day while I could barely leave my bed. In a way, I suppose I should be thankful, but…” her eyes wandered to the spot where Jack had been standing, and she looked the tiniest bit disgusted.

“Well. If I’d known I was going to have an enemy like  _ him  _ for the rest of my life, maybe I would have chosen to die like all the others. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?”


	16. Jack's Boss Sees Through Walls (Or Something Like That)

Nyx changed tones so quickly after that, it was jarring.

“So, you’re here to volunteer yourself?” she asked with a smile. A genuine one, at that; I couldn’t begin to comprehend how she associated herself with literal demons. I gave a hesitant nod, forgetting to ask exactly what she meant by “volunteer.” She grabbed my hand without a second to waste and started dragging me towards one of those tall, crooked, shadowy halls.

“That’s a relief. It’s been a while since anybody’s come here to become a healer, you know. We might have to start forcing people.” She chuckled to herself, and I wasn’t as reassured by her voice now, in the dark, no less. Her irises seemed to glow, turning kaleidoscopic the more she looked back to make sure I was still following. I only now was starting to question anything of what she’d said; I had broken out of the trance, my anxiety and learned phobia taking the wheel. Was she really a healer, or was she about to convert me to her weird, demon-worshipping cult? She definitely didn’t seem like she’d been  _ lying,  _ but would this be the best way to get ahead in my career? Was coming here even a good idea in the first place?

Had Jack been right?

“Um, Sawyer? Oh, god, I’m losing her. Did something happen?”

I was shaken from my little daze there and held out my hands to stabilize myself. We were standing in front of a charming little wooden door, with a figure carved into it that I couldn’t decipher. Nyx looked at me with worry, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“No. Sorry, it’s—I’m fine. Really.”

“You sure? It’s your first time in the realm, isn’t it?”

I nodded and dropped my gaze to the floor, my face flushing.

“That’s always the hardest one. Well, no use standing out here in the dark! Come in.”

Nyx’s office, if it could even be called that, was no larger than a college dorm room and about as decorated as one. I could spot two or three things that might’ve had the  _ slightest _ bit to do with healing, and about ten others that gave off the impression you were entering a psychic scammer’s lobby. In the corner there were two small wooden seats with no backrest, though I didn’t quite feel like they classified as stools, either. Nyx pulled them both up to the middle of the room and gestured for me to sit down.

“…what was your surname, again? Rafael?”

I took a seat and nodded, a tiny bit more hesitant than before.

“Perfect. You know, the archangel Raphael was responsible for healing in his little circle. Abrahamic religions, all that fun stuff.” She scribbled something down on an old piece of paper attached to a rusty clipboard, eyes squinting in a childlike manner at the word “fun.” I laughed and fixed my gaze on a far corner of the room—not that  _ far _ could really be used to describe any of them.

“Yeah. My parents kind of flipped when I told them I wanted to study medicine, and everything. I-in a good way, of course. Gave me the whole Sunday-school lecture for free. I think I was, like, ten.”

“Hm. Old enough to know, I suppose.” She flicked a stray piece of hair out of her face and set the paper down, looking at me with one eyebrow raised and a knuckle to her chin. “Fit. Intelligent, determined, polite…that’s what I see in you right now,” she said, almost like a motivational speaker. I blinked, unsure of exactly how I was supposed to respond to that. Luckily, Nyx didn’t give me a chance.

“Oh, don’t worry. We’ll put you to good use. Now, on the subject of healing with magic, or whatever you wish to call it…”

_ Who is “we”? _

* * *

She got straight to business from there, and I was sent back home with a spinning head and too many mixed feelings to count. My old worries of whether Jack had been right about the realm adamantly refused to die—and if my “place” in the demon realm was at all hazy before, I definitely got the message about two weeks later.

Jack hadn’t visited since we came back; not to check up on how I was handling  _ literal magic  _ for the first time, not to hang out like usual, nothing. I figured maybe he was playing it safe, whatever that was supposed to mean. Maybe he’d gotten in trouble for bringing me there, and had to keep his distance for a bit. Either of those would have been okay by me. I just wanted to know.

I was lying in bed, eyes wide open, waiting for midnight to strike. I couldn’t be sure why, but I waited anyway. Maybe I was thinking—well, hoping—that tonight was when he’d finally pay me a visit. I sat up with an annoyed sigh. Even if I got tired of waiting and tried to sleep, I knew I wouldn’t be able to.

Then something moved.

No, not something just skittering about in my room; I wouldn’t have been able to see that. My  _ bed  _ moved, slid along the wall by a couple inches and then stopped. I drew my legs in and hugged them close, my heart skipping a beat. It didn’t feel as if anything physical had moved it, more like it had shifted on its own accord, or like it was falling…

The ground outside rumbled. The entire house seemed to shake with my bed and me, its base weakly clinging to the earth underneath.  _ What the fuck?! _ I reached for a knob on the headboard, but was thrown forward when the shaking abruptly stopped.

“Ow,” I said, my voice muffled by the mattress. I sighed and rubbed my forehead; I’d definitely hit the wall coming down. “What the hell was—”

“Don’t talk.”

It was less than a whisper, much less, but I could hear the fear in his voice—if that had even been him, anyway. I struggled to make sense of exactly where he was, and ended up peering over the foot of my bed to find a lean figure crouched there, one hand on the wall. I almost reached out, but then retracted my hand. I couldn’t see this person’s face.

“…Jack? That’s you, right?”

After a brief moment, he sighed and rose to his feet, moonlight illuminating his mask from between the window slats. I noticed the screen was still closed; he hadn’t entered from there. I let out a relieved sigh nonetheless.

“Yeah, it’s you! Hey. I haven’t seen you in a while…”

I faltered as he raised a finger to his mask and reached into the pocket of his hoodie.

“…what’s happening?” I asked, lowering my voice accordingly. “You felt that, right? Something shook my house just now, like an earthquake, or—”

He leaned forward to grab my arm, frantically shaking his head. I wondered why he didn’t just “shush” me, why he wasn’t speaking at all. There was a quiet  _ snap  _ from outside and his attention was jerked to the window. He turned his head, the light making his narrowed eyelids just barely visible. Out of his pocket, he pulled a large, jagged knife—the same one he’d threatened me with at the park, shining so unnaturally I could almost make out my face in the blade’s reflection—and raised it over my head, not bothering to turn back around.

Well,  _ that  _ was a big mistake on his part.

I ripped my arm from his grip and kicked him off of me, making a beeline for the doorway. A single cough and a loud  _ clatter _ rang in my ears once I entered the hallway—the sound of his knife dropping to the floor. I didn’t look back. I only heard his footsteps from behind me echoing through the entire floor. We were on old grounds again. My head pounded along with my heart as the stairwell came into view. Just before reaching the first step, Jack grabbed my arm again and pulled us both to the ground. I let out a loud shriek as my body crashed into his and he wrapped both arms around my torso to keep me in place. I tried prying his hands apart, to no avail.

“Let me  _ go!” _

“Stop. Moving.”

His voice was hoarse, guttural and stifled, like he was choking on thin air. Like he’d just been running for his life one minute ago. I kept thrashing, kicking, trying to get a grip on the railing, but he took my arms and held them to my chest as he hugged me from behind.

“Sawyer. Sawyer, stop, it’s  _ me. _ I promise I’m not going to hurt you, it’s okay—”

“Then why are you—?!”

“Shut up! Please, stop talking, stop struggling, everything will be fine but please for the love of  _ god _ stay—”

_ “There you are.” _

Jack froze like a deer in headlights, as did I. The disembodied voice echoed in my head endlessly, bouncing around the inside of my skull like it was an empty tunnel, and scratchy like sandpaper being rubbed together next to my ears. The hall suddenly felt so much colder, so much more lonely—not to say I was any less afraid.

“Oh, my god. No, no no no no, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off fuck off fuck  _ off, _ ” he chanted under his breath, every muscle in his body tensing up until it felt like I was bound to pure stone. My heart started beating louder, and the echoing voice sighed.

_ “…Jack.” _

“Yes, sir,” he mumbled to the floor, not moving an inch.

_ “Do not call me that. This is how you repay me for years of thankless help? You deceive me? You hide parts of your life from me?” _

“Funny. Last time I checked, you don’t really think I have a life—”

_ “And then you go so far as to let this human into our realm. Let me get a good look at her,”  _ the voice continued over him. I felt an ice-cold, almost airy hand lift my chin. I clenched my jaw, trying to make out some sort of figure or silhouette in the darkness, but there was nothing in front of me. Jack’s hold on me tightened. I didn’t feel any more safe. Whatever thing had spoken before began talking again.

_ “All this could have been solved so easily,  _ sonur minn, _ had you only done your job.” _

“So it’s my  _ job  _ to—”

Jack was cut off once more, but not by any physical thing as far as I could tell. He just…stopped. His breathing grew heavy and tired, like he knew he had lost. Before I could ask any questions he dug his claws into the base of my neck, almost drawing blood, and clamped his other hand over my mouth. I struggled against him, trying to shift back, or at least look up to catch a glimpse of his face. Just to know if he was being serious. The mask was still on.

“I’ll do it,” he whispered. “I swear I will.”

_ “Go on, then. Be of use to me for once.” _

Tears started beading in my eyes. I tried to free one of my arms, but he just held me tighter and closer to his body.

“Stop moving or I’ll cut your throat open,” he growled into my ear.

“You wouldn’t,” I tried to say. “Please, just let me go—!”

His hand was on the verge of breaking my teeth. None of the words made it past my lips without getting obscured. Jack sighed, rested his head on top of mine, and loosened his grip by a mere fraction.

“Would you mind?” he asked the demon. “I don’t like being watched while I eat.”

_ “…of course.” _

A ringing in my ears I didn’t know was there vanished without hesitation, and my head felt lighter, as if I could simply pop it off and it would float away. I shut my eyes, the tears fogging up my vision, and started quietly sobbing into Jack’s hand.  _ He could have at least done this back when I didn’t trust him. Why now? How inconsiderate can you be?! _

“I’m sorry,” he said, so softly that I almost didn’t hear him. “You have to go.”

After ten more agonizing seconds, he looked both ways, then slowly let go of me and brushed himself off. I scrambled back, rubbing my throat, choking on my own words and still crying.

“What—?!”

_ “Shh. _ Go. Hide somewhere, anywhere, he’s more interested in me than you. God knows he’s still watching us,” he continued under his breath, lifting his mask with a calm but urgent look on his face, as if this had happened countless times before. I let out a cough of a breath, more confused than ever.

“So y-you don’t—?”

“Go!”

Maybe I would have stuck around a couple more seconds if he hadn’t pulled that whole “holy shit you’re about to kill me in cold blood” stunt just seconds before. That being said, I didn’t hesitate to bolt down the stairs and start thinking up places to hide. The  _ thing _ that had been talking before—his boss, I could safely bet at that point—probably wasn’t going to get out of his way for long, so I needed to decide on something quick. But I was interrupted halfway through the main hall by a clamoring of voices above me. One of them belonged to Jack.

“I don’t care,” I heard from upstairs. “What’s the point, anyway?! She’s been to the realm, she’s started working with Nyx, maybe she can serve you, too!”

_ “I know you like to think of me as an idiot, boy. Just admit it: you were ready to kill her, even if only for a moment. You’ve been getting more and more desperate—” _

“So what?! Maybe you’re not stupid, but you’re a coward! An old, selfish coward. You can’t handle it if the slightest thing goes out of line—even if she did die, she wouldn’t be sent to you. She wouldn’t turn into one of your mindless slaves. I know that’s really why you make me do this, so you have more bodies acting out your orders.”

_ “I haven’t made you do anything. I’ve done nothing but help you,  _ guide _ you to make the right choices. Come now, Jack,” _ the demon said in a disgustingly coercive voice.  _ “You know I only want what is best for you. Why try to save her? Why, out of all people—” _

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Jack spoke in such a low voice that I could barely make out his words above the ringing in my ear. There was a terrifying pause, and then a noise like scissors gliding through wrapping paper; only this was more gut-wrenching, interrupted several times by the sound of cracking bones, and punctuated by a scream of pain.

_ “The best of luck to you in healing that.” _

My hands flew to my mouth in a feeble attempt to stop myself from gasping, or worse, screaming as well.  _ No. Don’t make a sound, he’s not dead, he’ll be fine. It’s your  _ own _ ass you should be worrying about. _ I shook my head and shut my eyes, continuing towards the living room to settle on a hiding place. But as I turned to enter, a strange gust of wind seemed to push me towards the side of the stairwell.

Towards the door leading to the basement.

I sucked it up and dashed down the cold stone steps, wincing with every pebble my feet got snagged on or tripped up by. My common sense was telling me to get the hell out of there, go outside, scream for help, do  _ something  _ that didn’t spell certain doom. I could get cornered down here. I couldn’t see an inch past my nose, not if the door ever closed. But I shoved every rational thought to the side and curled up on the dusty floor, in a remote corner no human would think to check.

_ Well, this thing isn’t exactly human, is it? _

“Shut up,” I whispered to myself. “I-it won’t find me. It’ll just forget I even—”

_ “There you are.” _

My heart leaped into my throat at that voice; it came at me from all sides, engulfing me in its emotionless cruelty. The demon sighed.

_ “…again, I suppose. Samuel Rafael, isn’t it?”  _ Its laughter was loud, its echo ceaseless, and it didn’t give me a chance to respond.  _ “You certainly have made an effort to keep yourself hidden. You haven’t even told him your real name—” _

_ Stop it. That’s not my real name, it’s not my name, you’re just trying to mess with me.  _ I dug my fingers into my scalp, tangling my already fussed-up hair, the pain keeping me awake.  _ It’s just trying to mess with you. _

_ “It? Well, that certainly is a rude thing to say. Don’t act like you haven’t gotten  _ your _ fair share of the ‘it’ treatment, human…” _

“You—stop. That won’t work, whatever you’re trying to do, it won’t work, just let me go—”

I shut my mouth when that same icy hand traced my jaw and lifted my head, once again forcing me to look at nothing. Something seemed to revive in me; I regained my nerve, shakily standing up and walking straight ahead towards the basement stairs. Except after a certain point, something blocked me. No sort of wall, or fence, or anything—I could still see the light of the stairs perfectly, at least, as perfectly as one could in the dark. But no matter how hard I pushed or struggled, it felt as if a solid brick wall had been built between me and the staircase. I glared at nothing and clenched my teeth, pounding against the invisible wall with my fists.

“No. No, stop it, let me out—!”

_ “Were you aware that Jack was on a job when he came to your house?” _

The voice was narrowing, focusing itself until I was only hearing it from behind me. I whirled around, unsurprised but still frustrated when I found nothing there again.

_ “At least, he was the first two times. How many subsequent trips he took here, after you two made that… _ agreement _ …well, it’s beyond me.” _

“Liar,” I said without a second thought. “You know what he was doing, where he was, you  _ followed _ him here. You possessed him, you made him hurt himself and drag his body all the way to my home—”

His boss, Chernobog, laughed. It was no less a horrible sound than the last time.  _ “I don’t think you quite grasp, human, just how out of control my dear son Jack was. He kept you alive, when I made it explicitly clear that you were to die…” _

Something cold ensnared my ankle, and I jerked my leg away with a muffled gasp.

_ “He’s never seemed to have an issue talking back to me, though one could certainly chop that down to him being a disobedient  _ brat _ …” _

“Don’t talk about him li—”

_ “And I haven’t laid a finger on him. Not when he’s in that rather…animalistic state.” _ He made an odd sound, like he was shuddering.  _ “He was the one who rejected my influence, who tried to force something out that was never there. He did it all to himself, human, and you’ve had to pick up the pieces. For that, I apologize. On his behalf.” _

I shook my head, scratching my arm as I felt something crawl up like an insect. “No. I-it’s not his fault, you—”

_ “Well, since he is still not prepared to end your life, I suppose I must finish the job for him.” _

I was pulled sharply to the ground, as if chains were bound to every limb. I tried standing up again, but something kept pressing against my head, seeming to get a tiny bit closer to the floor with each passing second. A literal glass ceiling.

_ “And when I am done, I’ll drag your body straight to what you humans call  _ hell.”

“Why can’t you just leave him alone?!”

The lowering ceiling was halted for a split second, my bonds loosening in what I could only assume was the demon’s surprise. Surprise that I wasn’t even thinking of myself anymore; I could have been about to die, and I still wanted to defend Jack. After a moment, he laughed again, and my hands were slammed to the floor by invisible chains.

_ “Oh, that really is pitiful. Such a shame…didn’t he tell you already? _

_ “I am the one keeping him alive.” _

My head pounded as I tried to come up with something,  _ anything, _ to save myself. Nobody was going to rescue me, that I was sure of. I considered screaming, but that might’ve just made him kill me faster.

_ “I  _ own _ him.” _

“Like hell you do,” I spat, eyes frantically darting around the room. They ended up landing on a large vase filled with long-wilted flowers—a housewarming gift I’d stored down here years ago, having been too snotty to actually use it. The flowers were dead as dust, the water was probably filthy…

_ Water. _

I reached up to grab one of the table’s legs, pulling forward with all my might and causing everything settled there to come tumbling down. The vase hit my arm, its water spilling over me, its flowers curling up and wrapping themselves around anything they touched, the glass shattering on the floor. I winced as my elbow fell onto a piece, chipping off and cutting into my skin. A horrible sizzling noise filled the quiet night air, and my arm coated in water droplets looked as if it were frying in the sun.

_ “You—” _

He didn’t get much of an opportunity to finish his sentence before it started to take effect.

The boss hissed and howled, stretching and contorting the air around it until I could almost make out a shape in the darkness. Large, jagged claws burrowed themselves into its face, dark steam rising from its surface and passing through the ceiling. That was the only thing above my head now; the ceiling. I could move.

I stood up on shaky legs and narrowed my eyes—calm, angry, and with a strange sense of pity rising in my chest.

“That’s for my aunt, dickwad.”

_ “You horrible, filthy, cheating human—” _

“There’s a  _ lot  _ more where that came from,” I said through gritted teeth. “Now leave us alone.”

Chernobog hesitated. Then he let out a weak laugh.

_ “Do you really think this will deter me—?” _

“GO!”

I surprised myself by how furiously I said that, but made sure not to let it show. I picked the glass shard from out of my elbow, holding back a wince, and flicked it to the ground. The room was silent for a good few minutes. Finally, he said in a choppy rasp,

_ “May we…meet again…Samuel Rafael.” _

And disappeared, the ringing with him.

Tears started to bead in my eyes at that name. It somehow hurt more, demon or not, that he might not have been trying to mess with me after all. He believed that was my name, that it couldn’t be changed no matter what I did.  _ This fucker really cannot accept defeat, can he? _

I glanced down at my arm. A dusty substance, almost like rubbed-off dead skin was coating my arm along with the wilted flowers. The boss’s remains. Part of it, at least; I knew he wasn’t dead, just ran away to recover. I hadn’t expected the water to be that powerful against him.  _ So I guess there’s not really a point to “holy” water, when the regular stuff can do the trick just fine. _

I made my way to the stairs, still a bit shaky, and stopped dead when I saw Jack’s silhouette frozen at the top. We stared at each other for what felt like hours. I wondered what would change when one of us finally spoke.

“…Sawyer?” he breathed, looking taken aback. His mask was back on, a trivial thing that I absolutely hated now. I wanted to see his face— _ needed  _ to, even. I needed some sort of comfort, some reassurance that he wasn’t going to pull any more of his “acting” bullshit, that I wouldn’t be led to believe my life was in danger again, that he was okay and unharmed…

_ Where did that horrible injury go? _

Jack’s stomach, chest,  _ whatever  _ part of him Chernobog had sliced through was completely intact. He continued toward me, almost oblivious. The scream I heard from upstairs, the sickening sound of a deep wound being created…it was as if he didn’t even remember being hurt.  _ Am I just going crazy? _

I didn’t get a chance to ask before he took the knife out of his pocket and twirled it menacingly between his fingers.

“Say something. Now.”

“Wh-what?”

“Prove that it’s you.  _ Say _ something. Go!”

I raised my hands and backed against the wall as he stepped closer and closer. “I don’t—Jesus, stay back! It’s me, I don’t know how else to convince you—!”

“You get ten seconds. Just say something, or I’ll find it out another way.”

His voice didn’t comfort me much, and neither did the knife he had raised in the air. I shook my head, trying desperately to think straight.

“I-I don’t know! Your name’s Jack Gordon? You’re some breed of theatre kid, even if you don’t think so—um, USMLE! Ceramic tray! Jimothy!”

He froze as the knife was about an inch from my face, his breathing slow and heavy. He raised a hand and pushed up his mask, tucking the dagger into a belt loop. His face definitely retained all the trauma of tonight, the fear of not being able to help me fast enough. I could see a dark tear on the edge of his eyelid, threatening to spill over.

“Okay. I believe you…Sawyer.”

My fear gave way to exasperation as I glared and folded my arms. “You  _ need  _ to stop scaring me like that,” I breathed, heartbeat pounding in my ears and against my ribs. I was still shaking, my arm still coated in what must have been ash. It seemed to draw his attention.

“Did…did you—?”

“I don’t think he’s dead.” My voice remained a lot steadier than I thought it would. “Not really. There was a vase with water, and…I don’t know. I didn’t think it would work. He just kind of shriveled away. What matters is, it’s over now.” I forced a small laugh. “I-I guess it’d be best if you went home—”

I barely got to finish that thought before he wrapped his arms around me in a tight embrace. It should have startled me, given what had happened when he first came here tonight, but instead I found myself melting into him, holding back sobs I didn’t even know I’d been repressing.

“…thought I was going to lose you,” he muttered into my shoulder. I let out a shudder of a breath, clinging to the back of his sweater with a vengeance. Part of it felt like it’d been roughly torn in half. Shredded, almost. That only left me with more questions.

“Please… _ please  _ never do that again,” I whispered, choking on my words. “I-I was so—you were going to—”

“No. I wasn’t. I would never. You’re…” He seemed to struggle with finding the right words, and settled on hugging me tighter.

“You’re my best friend.”

_ Yeah, well, aren’t I your only friend, too? _

I shook the thought from my mind and let go of him with a sniffle. Something in me started to shift as I looked at him now. There wasn’t anything different in particular about his face; I felt overwhelmed with a sudden urge to  _ do _ something. I couldn’t have been less sure of what that something was. Did I want to hug him again? Cry? Scream at him for leading his bloodthirsty, demonic patron straight to my house, whether he meant to or not? It was over. Nothing was happening right now. I was safe. So why was my heart beating louder than ever?

I looked around the room. There was no way he could have heard everything from the second floor, not after what Chernobog must’ve done to him…

“How did you find me?”

Jack averted his gaze, letting it settle on his hand and running a fingertip over the claws. “This is your basement, right?” When I didn’t answer, he sighed. “That’s where he usually corners people for…well, anything. It’s closer to the realm, closer to Christian Hell—not that it really matters to him. He just finds it easier to work when there’s no exit, when you’re trapped underground.” He narrowed his eyelids, expression bordering on disgust. “…it’s where he first cornered me. After I lost my eyes, and I needed a place to stay.”

I hugged my arms, eyes downcast.  _ So he’s the one who led me down here. Who pushed me towards the door. _

“He’s a twister,” I said shakily, trying my best to lighten the mood. I didn’t need anymore of this fear, or melancholy, or regret in my system. I wanted to at least make him smile a bit. My mission half-succeeded; I thought I could see him bite the inside of his cheek, as if holding back a laugh.

“Yeah. He is, isn’t he?”

The moment was fleeting, and brought on a new wave of disappointment every few seconds. After minutes of waiting, I had to ask.

“What happened before you told me to hide? What did he tell you? I know he did  _ something _ .”

Jack’s face fell. “It…it’s not important now. He’s gone, he won’t try to hurt you again—”

_ “Jack.” _ I scoffed and held his face, completely done with all this hiding. “Okay, I want a new rule: no more secrets. It’s made us miserable, and bitter, and distrusting, and it needs to stop. What did your boss tell you that made you want to—”

“I never wanted to. I-I didn’t even  _ think _ about it, it was all just show—”

“So if it’s really not important, then you can tell me!”

He narrowed his eyelids at me, fingers locked between each other and fidgeting like he was trying to come up with the best way to phrase this.

“…he said if you…if  _ I _ finished you off, that…that he’d free me.” He reached up to touch one of my hands, stopping about a centimeter away. “That I’d be brought back to life.”

My heart sank in my chest as I watched him grapple with telling me that. I wondered if he’d been telling the truth; if maybe he  _ had  _ thought about killing me then, just for a second. I didn’t know whether to take a step back or forward, I wasn’t even sure how he wanted me to react. Jack moved my hands away from his face, now stony with disappointment.

“See, I knew it. I knew what you’d think, I know you’re thinking I really  _ did  _ want to—”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did! I—look, if you really want freedom, I’m sure there’s some other way—”

“That’s not the problem. You don’t have to worry about it, you don’t have to worry about me, or yourself, or my boss. I’d rather stay like  _ this _ forever than be alive again, knowing I…” He faltered with a pained look on his face, then hastily shook his head. “No. Like I said, it’s not important anymore. Besides, I know there’s another way. He was ready to make a pact, a real one, no double-meaning or tricks involved. He was just never desperate enough to tell me he was capable of it until now. I can get my life back anytime I want,” he said, sounding even more doubtful than before.

“Are you really that sure he was telling the truth?”

Jack hesitated, looking a bit surprised. Hurt, even. I shook my head in disbelief.

“After everything that’s happened…everything he’s done to you, how can you believe him?”

He took my hands, eyebrows furrowed.

“What else am I supposed to do?”

We spent the rest of the night finding solace in each other’s arms, waiting for the sun to come up.


	17. An Unfriendly Reminder

Despite everything that had happened, when I returned to the demon realm (much to Jack’s dismay), everything and everyone seemed to be the same. Lessons picked up where they had left off, I was harassed a whopping two times by the same demon—Vickson, I remembered they were named—and prodded mostly just for being human. It was a nice change from all the other reasons people had picked on me in the past, but it got old very quickly. I knew training with Nyx wouldn’t get me an outstanding grade in the more scientific, number-oriented classes; magic was more of a long-term solution, something I could carry in my back pocket until there came a right time to use it.

I stood in the room she’d picked out for me, her having been under the impression that I was staying here, ready to say goodbye for spring break. Not that there was much I could say goodbye to; the place was more like a solitary confinement cell with an easily unlatched door than anything. It was quiet, colorless, and desolate, just like everything else here. I was starting to see, just a little bit, how this place could be considered  _ Hell  _ with a capital H.

“Well…so long, I guess.”

Nothing.

_ Wait, did I expect the room to talk back to me, or something? This really is solitary confinement. And I’ve probably spent a grand total of five minutes in here. _

“You okay there?”

Jack’s voice woke me up with a jolt, and I turned to see him leaning against the doorway, amused. He’d grown a bit more used to me coming here, which I thought he would never get over. He always seemed so concerned that I’d be turned into a mindless slave, or that Nyx would mistreat me, or worse. I can’t say it wasn’t nice to see him happy for a change.

“Yeah, I just…this room is torturing me. Psychologically. I think it’s too gray.”

He had to hold back a snort, eventually nodding towards something in the corner. “How ‘bout that table over there? It’s got some color in it yet.”

“Eh. Still too dull. I’m going to have an aneurysm if I don’t have neons thrown in my face, stat.”

Jack raised an eyebrow and lightly shook his mask, which was hanging from a belt loop on his left. It wasn’t exactly neon, but I would take it. I pressed the back of my hand to my forehead like a weak-willed Victorian dame.

“I’m saved.”

“Glad to be of service. So I take it you’re ready to go?” He hesitated a bit before asking as I walked briskly from the room, shutting the door behind me. I hadn’t meant it to be that harsh of a gesture, I was just getting sick of looking at all that gray. I shrugged my messenger bag back onto my shoulder with a pensive glance at the walls surrounding us.

“I think so. Maybe say bye to Nyx first, she’s kind of the only person I know here. It’d be a shame if she got all paranoid when I don’t show up for another week…” I faltered at the look on Jack’s face, wondering why it was hitting me like a brick wall. Nothing in particular had changed about it; I just knew that she was still a sore subject for him. He furrowed his brow.

“She treating you right?”

“I—yeah, why wouldn’t she be?”

His eyelids narrowed and he nodded thoughtfully. “Good.” The tone shifted faster than I could blink as he started picking at a dry tar droplet on his mask, gaze fixed on the floor. “You sure you don’t want me to come with you? To your parents’ place, just to make sure you’re safe? Nobody has to see me, you won’t even have to worry about how I get there—”

“I’m sure. Last time you decided to…‘tag along,’ you lost control and somebody  _ died _ . I know it was because of your boss,” I said, holding up a hand before he could protest, “but it still happened. I can take care of myself. Got my secret weapon at the ready.” I threw a mysterious grin his way, causing him to cross his arms with half a smirk.

“And what would that be?”

“A Nerf Super-Soaker.”

He laughed and shook his head as we made our way out of the cavern-like hall. I couldn’t tell if it was magic that I could actually see in here after only a couple days, or if my eyes had just miraculously grown used to the dark. Jack gave me an unsure look, fiddling with the zipper of his hoodie. “Do you actually have one of those…?”

“If my parents still haven’t sold them since I moved out, probably.”

“Aw, little Sawyer’s all grown up,” he teased, ruffling up the front of my hair. I gasped and elbowed him off me, hitting a sore spot between his rib and underneath the arm. He grimaced and held off on his nonsense to rub the spot.

“God! Okay, little Sawyer’s  _ really _ grown up.” He cocked his head in my direction with another one of those unsure looks he had in his arsenal. “Where’d you learn all that self-defense junk you pulled on me, anyway? Y’know, the…” He knocked lightly on his head for lack of better words. “…first time?”

“Uh, the one just now was kind of a lucky guess, actually.” I shrugged and stopped as we reached the end of the hall. “I don’t know. I took classes, got okay at it. Had a bunch of blunt objects in the room to beat you senseless with, so that helped.” I looked at him curiously. “Why? You planning to take me down some other time?”

“Of course. Because I’m very much in the mood to fight you, here and now, as you’re about to leave for home.” Jack gave me an unsympathetic pat on the back like he was sending me off, though I could hear a trace of longing in his voice. Definitely not for fighting, but something else. I decided against asking about it.

“You know you can stop by my house if you want to. When I’m gone. Raid the kitchen, read some books, I don’t know. What do you like to do besides kill, again?”

After a moment, he shook his head with a frown, and I took that to mean nothing good. I raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously. You…you don’t have  _ any  _ hobbies?”

“I used to! You know, before I got roped up in all this demon business. I—uh, I played video games? Hung out with my roommate? A bit of a douche, but he was fun to be around.”

I tapped my chin in mock thought. “Hm. So, Jack’s hobbies: fuck around playing video games and talk to Gil, or whatever his name was.”

“Greg. Shouldn’t you be going right about now? People are… _ ahem. _ ” He feigned clearing his throat to subtly nod behind me. “Looking.”

I resisted the urge to whirl around and tell whoever was “looking” to mind their own business, instead biting the inside of my cheek and nodding. “I probably should, shouldn’t I.”

“Yep.”

“So I will.”

“Of course.”

“I mean, it’s just a week, I—you should be fine.”

“Yeah.”

I gave a little awkward throat clear of my own before turning to the portal-like exit hall, skinned wooden pillars seeming to bend outward at my approach. Apparently, even the place itself had a prejudice against humans.

“Um…bye, I guess,” I muttered, hoping Jack would hear. I didn’t get a response as I hurriedly walked out, avoiding any eye contact with whichever things had eyes here.

* * *

I trudged downstairs at 10:00, half-blind with one hand on the wall to ground myself. Nobody was waiting for me there, as usual, but it felt just a tiny bit lonelier this time. I was supposed to be seeing my parents almost every day of the break; this was their house. I thought about it over cold cereal, then remembered that they probably still had their day jobs to go to. The thought made me shudder as I realized its painful reality.  _ I’m going to have to work, all the time, even during breaks for the rest of my foreseeable future. _

The back door creaked open, and I almost pulled something craning my neck to see who it was. No need; I heard the loud shuffling of a track jacket being hung up and my dad’s keys being laid down on a table nearby. He scoffed as he walked into the kitchen, barely acknowledging my being there and making a beeline for the fridge.

“Y’know what just happened, Sawyer?” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed a banana and turned around on his heels, jabbing a finger at the table like he was laying somebody off. “Teenage kid, maybe even in his twenties, walked into the shop about an hour ago. He saw me checking on a tough case, somebody’s front wheel had kinda popped off and the metal in front was sealed together—well, you know what he says first? He said…”

Most of what followed was drowned out by my own grogginess; I knew the general idea of what he was saying, anyway. He went on and on about the little entitled prick, saying how he’d never been touched by the sun and was talking to him like he owned the place, the classic Mateo Rafael work day experience.

“…anyways, it’s a little funny, because he seems to realize his mistake, but that’s not the point of what I’m doing. I walk over to him, I kinda flick my tag in his face, and I say, ‘I’m not a regular worker because I’m the  _ manager _ .’ Dude doesn’t even lose his rhythm, steps back and adjusts his glasses and says without skipping a beat, ‘hm. I didn’t know somebody like you could  _ be _ manager.’”

At this point, he’d started laughing, shaking his head and holding himself up by his elbows on the table. “Maldito…cerebro de mierda, eso es que tiene él,” he muttered under his breath. His gaze snapped to me and softened almost immediately. “Sorry, kid. I should probably lay off those kinds of words, shouldn’t I?”

I shook my head, eyes downcast as if he’d just brought dishonor to the whole family. “Too late, dad, you’ve fallen from grace. You’re a sailor now, roughened by the seas, only going where the wind takes you…”

“Ha, ha. So, uh—well, how’s your morning been?”

“I just got up.” I stood from my seat and walked over to the coffee brewer, ignoring my dad’s eyebrow raise that said he was about to make a jab at me.

“Oh, school’s taken a toll on you, hasn’t it? Appreciate this ‘getting up late’ business while it lasts, soon you’ll be back on the front lines,” he said, bordering on singsong. I rolled my eyes. He knew I could always wake up this late at the university.

“D’you know where Mom is? She said she had something to talk to me about, it’s been eating at me for days,” I said dryly. Dad hummed a short tune as he munched on his mediocre breakfast. I wondered how early he’d risen—or how late he’d stayed up—to have gotten home from work around this time.

“I’m sure it’s nothing serious. Your mom, sometimes she likes to make a big deal out of things. I think she just needs excitement in her life.” He shot me a panicked look. “Don’t tell her I said that,” he half-whispered. I waved my fingers in the air as if performing magic.

“It’s already forgotten.”

“Thanks.”

He walked out of the room without another word, and I was left alone again to aimlessly roam the house.

Two more days passed before I got answers. I was passing by my mother’s room on Saturday when she perked up in her seat, standing up and waving me over.

“Oh, Sawyer! Come here, would you? We need to talk.”

Despite my knowing about this—for several days, actually—my heart jumped at that sentence. The damned thing does that to everybody, it fills you with dread. I swallowed my usual “I know” and went in, not so sure of what to do as she crossed her arms and looked at me calculatingly.

“Is everything okay upstate? At school?”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t it be? Are…are you worried about my grades, or something? Mom, I’m pretty sure this has been my best year, with all the—”

“It isn’t that. It’s about your Tía Freyja.”

My stomach dropped at that name. Time seemed to slow down; I shut my mouth and nodded, trying to get rid of an annoying bubble in my throat as she looked at me with a sickening amount of sympathy.

“It’s been hard, I know. But I need to ask…do you know anything about what happened that night? Anything you haven’t already told? Did you happen to see…” she faltered and pursed her lips, like she was trying to find a way to sugarcoat this even more. “Well, did you happen to see its face?” At my lack of a response, she hugged her arms tighter, urgency growing in her voice. “Sawyer, the case is still open. They haven’t found that  _ thing _ that killed her, they don’t even know whether it was a human that did it or not—Sawyer. Look at me.”

I met her eye again, frustration and anxiety bubbling in my stomach. “Why aren’t the police here asking me these things? You could’ve told me they needed another account.”

“I didn’t want you to worry anymore than you had to,  _ dayong. _ The police haven’t asked anything else of us, not since you left in January. I want to know for myself.” She sighed and held my face with both hands. “To tell the truth, they called about a week ago. There have been more deaths like Freyja’s near where you’ve been living. Near the university, actually. Claw marks, disembowelment, I…”

Her voice broke slightly and she shook her head, as if to communicate,  _ I don’t know what else to say here. _ Or maybe to get rid of the images burned into her mind.

“…I really shouldn’t be describing it to you. But do you know something? Have you heard about any of this?”

After a short moment where I thought I would explode on the spot, I gently pushed her hands away from my face.

“Nanay, you know that if I heard anything, I’d tell you.”

I instantly wanted to take those words one by one and shove them back into my mouth, they sounded so stupid. It wasn’t the lie that bothered me, though I knew I would regret it later; I also knew that she didn’t believe me one bit. She didn’t say anymore on the subject, just stared at me for a while, all disappointed, then pulled me into a hug.

“ _ Mahal kita, _ Sawyer. I hope you know that.”

“I do, Mom.” That part wasn’t a lie.

“Please stay safe.”

“I will.”

That wasn’t a lie either, or at least, it partially wasn’t. I was definitely going to try, but I couldn’t make any promises. Simply knowing Jack, or the demons, or even Nyx was enough to land me in danger at some point.

I took the 9:00 AM train back to campus the next day, already feeling lousy about whatever was to come.

* * *

“It may seem backwards to you, based on what you’ve heard…out there,” Nyx said with a flippant wave of the hand as she organized a hefty stack of paperwork on what could only be described as a floating desk. No legs suspended it; it was more or less just a board that had been gifted flight. “But we are humans in an unfamiliar realm—well, a bit more unfamiliar to  _ you, _ but my point still stands. Here, one should be nothing if not useful.”

She said it with such pep and cheer that I almost wasn’t taking in what she was saying. I thought after several weeks that I would’ve grown used to it, but hearing that tone mixed with her strange, twisted-up ideology still managed to throw me for a loop. Before anything more could be said on the matter, she turned back to me and folded her hands, something shiny locking her fingers together like glue. It was almost glowing.

“So! You’ve been practicing that mending spell I taught you?”

I nodded with sealed lips, though in reality I’d just unscrewed the leg of a chair in my room and managed to bring the two back together one hour before coming here. I was lucky the spell hadn’t flaked on me, or I’d have nothing to show for my lackluster “practice.” At least I remembered how to do it at all. Nyx tilted her head, like she knew I wasn’t telling the whole truth but didn’t want to confront me about it. Nyx had proven herself to be very non-confrontational since our lessons began.

She drew her hands apart, and with them, that same glue-like substance that had bound them before. It looked like a thin sheet of purple glitter glue was being spread out and sagging to the floor. It was very in line with her style; that sort of girly-girl of a witch who didn’t mind mingling death and sparkles in her work. But she frowned at the glittery bubble that had been created between her fingers, raising an eyebrow and muttering to herself, “Well, that didn’t work.”

“I think it looks cool,” I piped up.

She threw me an appreciative glance. “It does, doesn’t it? It was supposed to be a special adhesive that only works on occult beings. Binds wounds, holds them together while they heal, sort of like a bandaid. But it’s supposed to be completely ineffective on humans. Barely sticks together when it’s on you, even if you tried…”

I gave in to a tiny smirk. “Maybe you’re half-demon.”

We both fell silent. After a moment, she looked to me, unsure and with a thin trace of insult woven into her features. I immediately shrank into myself.

“I…sorry, was that offensive? It was just a—”

“Oh! Oh, you were joking. Highest be  _ damned,  _ Sawyer, you scared me for a moment there!” Nyx scoffed and wrung her hands to rid them of the magical glitter glue, eventually resorting to peeling it off with a look of mild disgust on her face. “Um, what were we on about again…?”

“Mending spell.”

“Right! So, I think we ought to give that just one more try before moving on to something more advanced. Think you can do that?”

“Of course.” I dropped to my knees and touched the floor with my shoulders hunched. “You gonna get out that mysterious green powder I tried with last time?” I asked, lips pursed to fight back an oncoming smile. Nyx knelt down beside me with an intricately carved wooden bowl, her hands now clean.

“I think we’ll go with sand this time. A tiny bit harder than the fluorescent powder, as it blends into the ground more.” She placed the bowl on the ground, it having been, indeed, filled with sand. I hesitantly grabbed about half of a fistful and started sprinkling it on the ground in a circle, like salt to repel an unholy being. I looked up at Nyx and took one more doubtful glance at the circle.

“Uh, so, what are we mending here?”

Without hesitation, she reached back, grabbed a pencil off her desk, and snapped it in half with relative ease. I raised my eyebrows at the action, while she held out the pieces expectantly.

“What? It’s just a pencil. Go on.”

_ Thought you were more of the “a pencil is never just a pencil” type, but okay. _

I set down the poor wooden shards beside the circle of sand and muttered,  _ “Copulare hanc— _ pencil,” making an oval inside with my fingers as best I could and separating them just as quickly, breaking the circle’s outline and causing the pieces of pencil on the ground to shake. The way these spells worked was almost like computer programming; input a command, say what or who it should affect, and watch the magic happen. I thought to myself, amused at their excessive use of Latin,  _ Yes. Join Hank. _ I began to half-wonder and half-worry that two poor guys named Hank out there might have fused together from different sides of the globe thanks to my thoughts. I banished the idea from my mind when I saw the broken ends of the pencil gravitate towards each other, shaking and eventually melding back together with an amusing  _ shoop. _

“Ah! Very good.” Nyx gave me an excited little round of applause before standing up, taking the bowl of sand with her. “You may take your hands off the ground now.”

I dusted myself off and sat back down on my little chair, awaiting her next instructions.

We continued like that for an hour or so, me biting my tongue before something insensitive was said more times than I could count. Apparently, it was a grave dishonor for humans and demons to mix. At any capacity. I wondered if that was a good chunk of a reason as to why so many people here hated Jack; if they didn’t know the whole story (which  _ of course _ they didn’t), they could only assume he was created from some sort of magical mishap, or cross-breeding, or whatever weird business went on here. I felt unjustified guilt and shame crawl up my spine the more I thought about it, so I decided to simply stop thinking about it.  _ Because that’s so easy, right? _

Nyx was still talking, seemingly unaware of my zoning out and remaining so as I zoned back in with a snap. She had been explaining every step of a spell like the one I’d performed before, why there was a tedious formula and why every little detail was needed. The mending spell had been one of the most basic of them, the blankest of blank slates. Some spells, like those you would perform solely on a living organism, were bound to be much more complicated and  _ much _ more dangerous to get wrong.

“…then there comes the shape within that binding circle, which dictates the type and intent of the spell. You’ve been using your fingers to form it so far, which is good in a pinch, but for other spells is near impossible to—”

She froze up without another word, her gaze locked on a random corner of the ceiling, though god knows how far up it actually went from here. Her eyes glazed over, and she nodded with about half the confidence she possessed before. I wondered if she was hearing something—or some _ one _ —that I couldn’t. Before I could say anything, or try and snap her out of it, she broke from the trance and clapped with an awkwardly apologetic expression.

“Well! Excuse me for that, Sawyer, I guess we’re taking a small break for now. I’ve got some work to do, it shouldn’t take too long. Feel free to roam for the next, ah, 15 minutes or so.”

I raised an eyebrow, still glued to my seat. “What kind of work, if you don’t mind me asking...?”

“Oh, nothing big! The Highest would just like me to continue working on a...small project of his. One should be nothing if not useful,” she repeated hollowly, seeming to sink down in her chair the tiniest bit. I nodded after a moment’s hesitation and got up, knowing it would feel rude to just leave but unsure of what more I could do.

Outside the hall where Nyx’s office was, a small, ramp-like object almost akin to a bench sat along the wall. It looked sad. Lonely, even. I furrowed my eyebrows at the sight, wondering why it struck me like that. I hesitated for a moment, grazing its surface with my fingers to make sure it wasn’t an illusion.  _ Not happening a second time.  _ It was real wood. I sat down cautiously, holding my head and backtracking my own thoughts with unsteady breaths.

_ Magic. _

_ Useful. _

_ The “Highest.” _

_ Jack. _

Freyja…

I glared at the floor as stupid thoughts came rushing to me all at once. What my mother had told me yesterday shouldn’t have irked me that much; yeah, Jack needed to eat sometimes. And whichever neighborhood rested on the edge of campus was the most convenient place for him. So what? It’s not like it was all his fault my aunt died. It’s not like one day he’d fuck up and kill somebody else I knew, it’s not like he was some unfeeling  _ monster _ . I could trust him.

_ But what if— _

No. I could trust him. There was nothing more to it. He was my friend, a  _ close _ friend, probably the only one he’s had in years. He wouldn’t just throw that away.

_ What if he loses control again? _

I paused and then shook my head, eyes shut.  _ No. That’s not going to happen, his boss has already tried screwing us over and failed. That “may we meet again” bullshit…that’s all it was. Bullshit. A bluff. _

“Oh, hey, you got a break?”

I opened my eyes, relieved by the break from my frantic and disturbing train of thought. Jack certainly could’ve looked better; my smile faltered as I looked him up and down, wondering what had happened while I was gone. Mainly, how he’d acquired the crescent moon-shaped burn on his left cheek. He stared at me for a moment, oblivious, before realizing what I was looking at with a silent “oh.”

“Uh…yeah. That. Let’s just say I probably shouldn’t get into as many fights as I do when I’m mad—”

“Ridiculous,” I said with a shake of my head. “It’s like I’m in high school again. How many different ways can you get yourself hurt this year?”

“How many times are  _ you  _ going to call me ridiculous this year?” He huffed and made to sit next to me, eventually deciding against it. “I remember those things, you know.”

I stood up to either give him a piece of my mind or comfort him somehow, when I caught something from out of the corner of my eye and was diverted. Tiny droplets of black ink were edging tentatively toward us, gaining a new form and shape every time I glanced at them. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t ignore them. Jack noticed my wavering attention and arched an eyebrow, his gaze following mine. He folded his arms and groaned as soon as he caught sight of the things.

“Great. It’s  _ them. _ ”

I realized that everybody who had previously been in the giant clearing with us was gone. They’d vacated the area without making a sound, as if alerting these little drops of their presence would be fatal.

One at the front started squirming in its spot, eventually breaking off the floor and taking the form of what looked to be a ball of chocolate-brown fuzz. It flapped towards us, its “friends” following, with wings like a fly’s and sprouting animal-like skulls where their heads should have been. It would’ve been cute if I didn’t recognize the body parts they’d clearly ripped off of something else; pigeon legs stretched out from their bodies and threatened to land on my arm, which I quickly jerked out of their reach. Strange as it was, I could only describe them as fairy-like, given the confusing amalgamations before me. My conclusion started making less and less sense to me as I noticed the sheer size of these things—some of them were like guinea pigs, for Christ’s sake.

“Ah…to roam these halls again, free as a bird,” the leading creature mused. It sounded like some sort of elvish trickster. It turned to its fellow fuzzballs expectantly. “I feel so  _ young _ again. Don’t you?”

“I do.”

“I do!”

“ _ I _ do.”

“Here it goes,” Jack said under his breath, and he froze in his spot, a look of tired resentment carved in stone on his face. The wannabe-griffins all fell silent, turning their gaze towards him in perfect unison. I felt a shiver travel up my spine at the movement.

“Why, hello, Jack-a-boo,” squeaked the leader with a tilt of its head—well, skull. “Boss and I would like to speak with you.”

“Me too,” said the one next to it, fluttering up to perch itself on his nose.

“Me too!”

“Me too!”

“Me too—”

“ _ Shut up! _ God…” Jack squeezed his eyelids shut and cut off the growing chorus with a wave of his hand. “Stop splitting up for things like this! This whole act, it’s so annoying, you’re not being cute.”

“The idea isn’t to be cute, dear old son,” the first fairy-like creature chirped, tone never wavering. Each of the others chimed in again, one by one.

“The idea is to drive you mad.”

“To split you in half.”

“To start you slashing!”

“Maybe scare away that human pet of yours…”

I batted one away as it started flying a little too close to my face, reaching my limit along with Jack. “Hey, I’m right here!”

The things all laughed in unison, an awful sound somewhere between booming thunder and a swarm of locusts.

“Just a little joke, you see,” one said.

“But you really ought to come along with me.”

“The Highest is waiting, impatiently!”

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “ _ You’re  _ the Highest, why do you always…ugh, fine.” He turned back to me and raised his eyebrows in a casual but apologetic way. “Keep training, I guess. With…” He trailed off, and before I could get too worried, made a horrible fake gagging noise and raised a hand to his throat. I stifled a laugh.

“Yeah, okay. You can’t even say her name—”

** _“Jack.”_ **

We both flinched at the loud, embittered voice that rang throughout the room, him significantly less than me. The first fairy, demon,  _ whatever _ it was flew upwards until it was face-to-face with him, saying in a low, threatening drawl:  _ “Now.” _

_ I guess all that really was an act. _

“At least you stopped that stupid rhyme thing you had going,” Jack mumbled, adjusting his hood with one irritated, jerky movement and walking away without another goodbye. I folded my arms, wondering with the slightest trace of fear what his boss could possibly want with him now. Everything was going fine; maybe he just wanted to berate him some more for associating himself with me?

I took a quick glance around. There was nobody else here, not as far as I could see. I still had a couple more minutes to kill before Nyx would start looking for me.

I waited until Jack turned a corner, then followed him down the hall.


	18. I Ruin Things a Little

Something strange happened as the three of us—Jack, me, and whatever hive mind abomination had been annoying us earlier—kept advancing, walking deeper into the hall than I’d expected to be possible. Almost ten doors down (doors that were separated by about 100 feet of blank wall, mind you), everything seemed to get…darker. Symbols on the plaques decorating several doors on my right were obscured. My arms started sprouting goosebumps, and the only thing I had to guide me were the pockets of light provided by other halls off to the side and the sound of Jack’s footsteps. I could still see him, more or less; but the surrounding space was a new kind of void, blackened to the point where I wasn’t even sure if we were still in the demon realm. This felt like the prelude to a nightmarish world, somewhere beyond the sobered numbness these creatures had been living in.

Jack halted and I dove to the side, my hands finding a corner I could hide behind if he ever looked back. I peeked out of the side hall to find that he already had. I quickly pressed my back to the wall, praying that my heart wasn’t beating as loud as it sounded in my head.

“…hello?”

I held my breath, my heart leaping into my throat at the single step I heard being taken towards my hiding place. After a moment, Jack sighed in defeat.

“Just let it go, dude, let it go…” he muttered. I could almost see him rubbing his jaw dejectedly, his thinking face on. “God, I’m really losing it.”

“Maybe you are, maybe you are—!”

“Shut  _ up, _ ” he growled at the chorus of chirps that surrounded him for a split second. I swore I heard one of them right by my ear, but when I turned around, nothing was there. I returned to stalking and nearly heaved a sigh of relief when he turned to enter a room on the side, the annoyance in his voice palpable as he said,

“I really hope this is worth having to listen to  _ these _ fuckers for five minutes, ‘cause those are some five minutes I’m never getting back.”

I imagined him holding one of the fairy-like creatures by the scruff of the neck like you would a misbehaving kitten, and stifled a laugh. When I reached the doorway, that really was all I could do from there; imagine. From what I was able to see, the room was grand and spacious but disappointingly empty, as if whoever inhabited it was preparing for a renovation. Besides my less-than-ideal view of the place, I could see Jack, pacing around and keeping his hands locked where they were like he was barely holding himself back. There was nothing else visible there—then again, I was careful not to look any further past the sliver of a view I had into there. But even though nobody else seemed to be with him, I heard another voice. A quiet, raspy, intrusive voice that felt like it was crawling deep into the folds of my mind.

Chernobog.

_ “We give you some freedom. Far more than you deserve, but we give it to you. And this is how you pay us back?” _

“Do you think I  _ wanted  _ this to happen?!” Jack threw his hands up, the tension that had been building up within him exploding. “Would you like me to just, un-meet them? Because if you have the power to pull something like that off, I’ll gladly do it.”

_ “Don’t get smart with us, Jack. You’d do well to keep in mind exactly what the consequences are if—” _

“No, I mean it,” Jack said, clearly not meaning it at all. “Please. By all means, show me what I can do to fix all this. I’d like to know. I mean, it’s not like I’m  _ human  _ or anything.”

_ “No. You’re not. Remember your place.” _

_ What’s with all this “we” and “us” talk? Is…is there more than one of him?! _

“Oh, that’s real nice. I might be dead, but that doesn’t mean you can just—”

_ “Of all the people, boy…of all the people you could have fallen in love with, you choose a healer.” _

“I didn’t choose this! Who do you think I am?!  _ What  _ do you think I am, you still don’t understand me, anyway!”

_ “Mind your tone.” _

_ A healer…?  _ My mind flew to the one other person I knew in this place, and for some reason I felt a soft but painful sensation in my chest.  _ Nyx?! But he hates her. What are they even arguing about? _

“Whatever. It’s not like you’re trying to do anything about it, either, you probably don’t even know who it is.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets like that was the end of it.

_ “We can guess.”  _ There was an unsettling pause.  _ “Is it the one listening to us outside this hall?” _

* * *

I didn’t hesitate in getting the hell out of there once he said that.

Even through the sound of my heart pounding in my ears as I ran, I could still make out scuffling and a groan of exasperation in that room, and turned a corner just in time.

“ _ Nyx? _ I know that was you. Mind your own fucking business for once, is that so hard?!”

Jack was probably peering out into the hall, but didn’t bother checking any further. I could almost see him digging his nails into the wall and scrunching up his face before heading back inside, in usual annoyed-Jack fashion. I was about to sigh when I realized they probably would have heard that, and began walking away with my head low and my eyes wide in panic.

_ Nope. Not today, not listening in to one more conversation with  _ that  _ demon. How did he even know I was there? _ I held that thought in my mind for quite a while, but didn’t try thinking up an answer. My only objective for now was to head back to wherever I was supposed to be and act like nothing ever happened.

_ Stupid thing sees through walls. Definitely reads minds, too. I’m not messing with that shit, not again. _

After a long walk of shame, I arrived at my sorry excuse for a room and sat down on whatever surface was closest to the door. Gripping the edge of the table and taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and tried to organize this new information—at least, in a way that would make any sort of sense to me.

“He… _ likes  _ Nyx? That—well, to put it simply, no. That doesn’t add up. He’s either a really good actor or just a complete dick when he’s in love.” I tilted my head and focused on a crack in the wall near the ceiling.

“I guess that part adds up; he was already a little mean to me, and we’re just friends. I mean, I do it back, of course, and we still help each other, and he’s been really considerate lately…” I scoffed and tried fighting back a smile. “Ha. If anything, he should be in love with  _ me.  _ But his enemy? The sister of the girl who would’ve killed him for good, if his boss hadn’t found him? I-I don’t get it. He hates her, she hates  _ him. _ ” Several tiny waves of emotion started crashing over me, one at a time. My breathing became unsteady, and the pain I felt in my chest came back with a vengeance.

“Why do I care? No, that’s a stupid question, I don’t care. I shouldn’t. It’s his life—well, not-life—and I need to leave him alone.” I was starting to glare at the wall for no good reason. “But I’m not doing anything. I’m just thinking. People are allowed to think, right? I’m allowed to  _ think  _ that they’re not good for each other, I just can’t say anything, it might hurt his feelings, or…”

All of a sudden, soft footsteps started coming closer to my room, and I realized that I hadn’t closed the door. I jumped up from my seat and nearly took the poor thing off its hinges pulling it shut. The footsteps stopped outside, right in front of my doorway as if they were trying to make me more uncomfortable. After a short moment that felt like forever, the person sniffed and muttered, “Hm. New human,” in the worst possible tone of voice. One that said “murder” loud and clear.  _ At least it’s not Jack,  _ I found myself thinking. If the creature could hear my thoughts, they didn’t show it; only sniffed again and walked away as if I wasn’t worth their tormenting.

When I was sure they were far enough down the hall, I said to myself, “Maybe hurt feelings are the least of his problems.”

* * *

I spent one more week like that, trying my best to mind my own business and failing spectacularly. For days on end, whenever I got another one of Nyx’s “breaks” so that she could work privately, Jack never seemed to be there. At least, not for more than a minute. Something always came up, he always had to complete another vague task his boss assigned him—some days, he just flat-out disappeared on me. I felt something crawling under my skin at the notion that he had probably been told to kill someone on those days. Hell,  _ every  _ day, whenever his boss told him to “come here” right as we were about to say hi to each other. I accidentally overheard some words exchanged on one of my breaks that managed to send a chill down my spine:

_ “Don’t forget, boy, you’re making up for lost work.” _

Because Jack had spared me, others were dying in my place.

I mustered the energy to lift a hand and knock on Nyx’s door, far from awake. I’d skipped breakfast to be there—she wanted to see me today at 4:00 in the  _ morning. _ I still didn’t quite have a grasp on how time worked here, as with each morning I entered the woods for an hour, I came back out around evening time. But early was early, and I couldn’t be blamed for showing up at the wrong time if  _ time _ itself had little meaning here.

“Ah! Perfect. Uh, sorry to make you walk all this way, but we’re actually holding off on lessons—goodness,” Nyx remarked, her voice wavering the slightest bit as if she didn’t want to offend me. “You look…are you alright, Sawyer? I could make some porridge if you’re not feeling your best—”

“No. I-I’m fine. What were you saying about no lessons?” I stifled a yawn as she looked at me with increasing skepticism. I had no idea how awful I must’ve looked, and no intention to find out. Nyx pointed awkwardly back out the hallway and to a grand, intricately-carved and near  _ royal _ set of doors directly across from us.

“I’m just the messenger. Highest wants you to report to HTA for…well, I suppose it explains itself.” Before I could ask what the hell HTA stood for and exactly how much she thought I knew about this place, she gave me a wide, encouraging smile and slammed the door in my face.

“Good luck!” I heard muffled from inside.

“…thanks.”

I sighed and started walking towards the needlessly huge doors, their intimidation starting out as a pinprick and spreading like sickness through my blood with every step. I couldn’t spy a knocker anywhere, nor were there handles of any kind. Drawing in a deep breath, I pushed open the double doors to find what looked to be a regular office hall.

_ Excuse me? _

Those letters, HTA, hadn’t given me much of a magical, occult-ish vibe to begin with. But what in actual hell was this.

Left with nothing else to do, I walked inside. The doors automatically shut behind me, creating a gust of wind strong enough to shake a bodybuilder off their feet. I braced myself on a wall, surprised at how close they were to me now that the doors had closed. I looked behind me. There was a single, basic, regular-sized door like one to a school’s guidance office.

_ Pocket dimension, _ I guessed, my puny human brain scrambling to find some sense of familiarity in all of this. Something grounded in science and reality. The hall seemed to narrow more and more as I walked down, almost like a funnel until there was only about a foot of space on each side of my body and my head was dangerously close to touching the ceiling. I reached a door at the end, not unlike the one that appeared behind me after I’d been sealed into this place, and rested a cautious hand on the knob. Nothing sparked, or jumped out, or otherwise harmed me like I’d expected. It was just a doorknob. I took a deep breath and opened the door, hoping this was the place I was meant to be right now.

A typical, if not unnaturally  _ clean _ locker room seemed to unfold before my eyes as the door creaked open. It was as if some outside force was meant to randomly generate a room based on who was stepping inside, like a laggy Room of Requirement. I edged forward, tapping the floor with my foot just to make sure there was actually something there. Solid tile; I wouldn’t fall to my doom if I dared to go inside.

A blast of hot, dry air whipped my face when I stepped forward again, and I staggered back, my mouth agape. Maybe I’d expected steam to be pouring from this room—its appearance reeked of “traditional high school gym locker.” But dry, desert-like wind that nearly burned my skin off? I was about to shut the door and wait outside for the room to stop throwing a temper tantrum at me when somebody cleared their throat.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

It was an unfamiliar voice that had a jarringly medium tone to it, like the culmination of a thousand humans’ vocal ranges mixed together. I peered into the locker room, looking around with narrowed eyes. After a while, the person sighed.

“Look down.”

It surprised me that the voice hadn’t said “down here,” though their tone gave a very strong impression that they wanted this to be over with. Like,  _ I’m short, get used to it. _ I dropped my gaze to the floor and saw what looked to be a small child dressed in all pink fluff; their skin was fair, their blonde hair worn in neat, shiny curls, and the  _ clothes… _

I raised a finger to say something but the kid sighed again and made a “zip it” motion, pulling a clean scroll out of thin air and beckoning me forward.

“Edith. Accounting chain, line four in god-knows-how-many,  _ demoted  _ to HTA.” The demon, if one could even call her that, waved her hands mockingly and averted her gaze to the side, as if she had only been informed of her demotion about five minutes ago. She was clad with a pink and cream dress bearing an unholy amount of frills, a wide-brimmed hat tilted to one side of her head, and tiny dark shoes like what a 1900s school girl would wear.

“Well? Come inside. Can’t have any of the air escaping, our department’s being squeezed dry to pay for it.”

I timidly stepped inside, and the door slammed behind me in the same manner that the giant, royal ones down the hall had. Before I could ask what I’d been called here for—if I was even in the right place to begin with—I heard an annoyed groan from behind me as the door reopened, and turned to see Jack trudging in with his eyelids shut.

“Gee, can’t wait to see which asshole will be monitoring…” He opened them up and stopped dead when his gaze fell on Edith, confusion and surprise overtaking his face. “Oh. Wait, I don’t know  _ you. _ ”

Edith sighed yet again, scrawling something completely illegible on the top of the scroll. “Way to make a first impression, then, Highest Junior.” She raised her head with a mock-thoughtful look, tapping the pen on her chin. “Hold on, should I even call you that? You  _ are  _ only half-demon, after all. Such a shame he has to associate himself with you…”

While Jack looked like he was considering attacking a child with his bare hands, Edith let out a tired chuckle as if that was the most fun she’d had in years, and turned around to lead us further into the room.

“I suppose you must be…” She narrowed her eyes at a line of small text at the scroll’s end, though it seemed to be written in another language. “…S. Rafael? The human? Please speak now, or I’ll assume there’s been a mistake.”

I scoffed despite myself. “So they couldn’t even be bothered to write my full name.”  _ Is the “Highest” always this rude to humans, or does he still think my name is Samuel? _

“Present,” Edith said under her breath, almost begrudgingly. “And…Eyeless Jack! Oh, I forgot about  _ that  _ part,” she said, the mischievous shift in her tone jarring. Jack picked up his pace to walk beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder and squinting at the scroll.

“What? There’s no way they wrote  _ that  _ name on there! Ooh, I’ve got a couple words for the boss once I get back,” he growled, claws about to pierce the fabric of my shirt. I rested my hand on his, hoping it would calm him down at least a little.

“Come on, dude,” I said in a half-whisper. “Let’s just…get through this. You can be angry all you want after.”

We trailed along after her through a darkened, narrow hallway like the one I’d walked down before. The hot air of the locker room slowly began to fade, and I found myself shivering a tiny bit as a speck of light became visible in the distance. The end of the hall. My attention was diverted, though, to a door made entirely of glass on my right, emitting its own soft light from the other side. I peered through and saw a room obscured by steam, the occasional silhouette passing by and throwing what seemed to be a rag over their shoulder. The silhouette of…

_ Another human? _

“I’d stay out of that room if I were…” Edith trailed off, looking me up and down with some sort of newfound understanding. “Oh. Hm. Right. Well, in that case, you can get refreshed in there, drink… _ water, _ ” she muttered, the disgust in her voice thinly veiled. I nodded absently.  _ Of course. A human break room. Why did I think I was the only one here? _

“Come along, now. Fighter or not, you still want to prove your worth, don’t you?”

I stared at her, perplexed, as we started walking again. “Fighter?”

“You were called upon by good old Highest to report to the HTA, were you not? Or do I have the wrong S. Rafael?” Edith didn’t even turn around to address me, while something horrible started growing in the pit of my stomach. I looked to Jack, who didn’t seem the least bit worried about any of this. He also didn’t seem like he was going to bother explaining it, which frustrated me to no end. I sighed and turned back to Edith, who was already a good ten feet ahead of us, and ran to catch up. Jack didn’t change his pace and fell behind.

“Um, sorry, but could you explain exactly  _ what _ HTA means?” I asked, on the verge of losing my breath. Edith had yet to show a trace of concern or sympathy, which I probably should have expected from a demon, but still found a bit unsettling. Even then, she didn’t stop walking, didn’t whirl around to point at me and ask, outraged, how I had  _ never _ heard of this mysterious HTA, how on Earth I hadn’t managed to find a  _ single _ explanation elsewhere! She sniffed disapprovingly and looked down at her scroll, now chock-full of ciphered information.

“Human training arena. You’ll be competing with our Jack Gordon to track how he fares against the average human in combat. Do speed up, Jack,” she called, still not turning around to see if he was listening. “Your reputation depends on it.”

I stole a quick glance behind me; the look on his face suggested he was thinking,  _ Do I look like I give a rat’s ass about my reputation? _

“Alright. Now seems like a good place to stop,” Edith said after another minute of awkward, silent walking. We halted before what looked to be the side entrance of a miniature Roman arena. Except this arena in particular had been emptied out and scrubbed down  _ mercilessly; _ everything was polished and pristine, nothing like the crumbling stone I’d expected from a so-called “training arena.” No sort of sand coated the floor, in fact, what I saw was more akin to linoleum tile. I looked up—there was no sky. This was a giant, closed-off dome with a podium box suspended to our left that looked almost like a technician’s control booth.

Edith seemed to notice the look of wonder on my face and rolled her eyes. She pointed out and up to the gravity-defying podium box.

“I will be watching from the booth up there to keep score, take notes, etcetera.”

“Let me guess,” said Jack, who had just caught up with us. “Only on me, and how much I’m improving, and blah blah blah.”

“No, I’ll be keeping track of both of you. But the emphasis is on the demon, if any are present.”

My stomach tied itself in a knot when I finally processed what was about to happen. For whatever reason, I was suddenly anxious to prove myself in combat, even more so to prove myself to Jack. I wondered if I could ever bring myself to hurt someone that badly if it wasn’t a life-or-death situation. All that talk about fighting Vickson, or whatever its name was, when we came to the realm before had just been that—talk. A heat of the moment bluff. Back when we first met, I almost broke Jack’s skull in half with a tray. What would it be like fighting him now? Would I want to go easier on him? Harder? Would he see it differently than I did?

_ Whatever,  _ I found myself thinking.  _ Maybe I can talk some sense into him, what with this whole Nyx thing. He might take it less personally if it’s while we’re… _

I furrowed my eyebrows and shook my head, still staring at the floor.  _ Wait, no. That’s a horrible idea. Why am I so obsessed with this? Him and her, together, it’s not going to change anything between us! Am…am I— _

“Alright, Miss Rafael, I hope you’re ready for a severe ass-kicking.” Jack flicked the tip of a newly-sharpened nail and grinned, rendering me defenseless. It wasn’t fair; no matter how hard I tried, it seemed like he was always the one to catch me off guard, or have the last laugh. I narrowed my eyes, praying to a nonexistent god that whatever color had manifested itself in my cheeks was fading.

“ _ Miss  _ Rafael…” I grumbled to myself. “You’re out of your mind. What, getting scared already?”

“You wish.”

“Just something worth noting,” Edith said, raising a hand and making an ominous sawing motion between our bodies. I only then realized how close we were standing to each other.

“You are not friends. Not now—not in this room.”

I crossed my arms with another wondrous expression, like,  _ would you look at that?  _ “Oh. Well, that’s definitely going to make things easier for me.”

Jack’s head snapped in my direction, the smug look he’d plastered on having completely disappeared. “Easier?”

_ Aw, the bastard got his feelings hurt. _

“Come on, it was a joke.” I made an attempt to pat him on the shoulder, but Edith shot me a dirty look as my hand was about to cross her imaginary line. “…hey, I’ll try not to hate you once this is over. Deal?”

Before he could answer, Edith sighed and pressed two fingers to her forehead. “Well, I  _ suppose _ I won’t be able to tell from up there, anyway. Can’t hear a thing. Just…try not to get too chummy,” she said, eyeing both of us with an unreasonable amount of suspicion before turning away, leaving a trail of fluff and sugar plums. It still was beyond me how any sort of creature like her could be classified as a demon; she was basically a walking cupcake.

Jack and I stepped into the arena, and I rubbed my arms with clenched teeth. The air was cold and dry now. Although I knew a coat would only weigh me down in a fight, I regretted leaving mine at home. Jack was—big surprise—without his hoodie and looked overall unaffected by the space’s chilliness. I heard Edith’s voice at full volume from some invisible speaker in the dome, sound bouncing off the walls and mingling with itself until I could barely understand what she was saying. I squinted at the booth where she had supposedly been stationed; she seemed to realize what was happening, and with a  _ click  _ the overwhelming echo faded away.

“This is the most standard competition we can offer to start with,” she repeated, her voice now crisp and clear. “There is one semi-flexible pole to your right—”

As quick as she’d said it, a metal pole with rubber-coated ends fell to the ground out of thin air. Jack picked it up without hesitation, though he didn’t look like he knew exactly what to do from there, either.

“—that you will both hold at the start. Ten rounds before a break. Focus on the pole’s ends; whoever can make it so those meet the ground over your opponent’s body earns a point. Just…don’t break the thing, and we won’t have any problems. Other than that, no holds barred. Except for  _ killing _ , I suppose,” she muttered.

My heart started to beat faster, adrenaline mere seconds from taking over my body. I walked over to Jack and raised my hands as well as an eyebrow, gesturing for him to give me space on the bar too. He shifted his hands to the very ends of it with a poorly disguised smirk, and I stuck my tongue out at him as I gripped the bar and fixed my gaze on the booth. Though I couldn’t exactly see Edith’s face, I was willing to bet good money she was smiling.

“Have at it.”


	19. I Ruin Things a Lot

By some unspoken agreement, we turned our attention back to each other at the same time. Jack looked me dead in the eyes and mouthed, “Three, two, one.”

Without wasting a second, I ripped the pole from his hands and shifted my grip to both ends, preparing to charge at him. He winced from the friction burn and glared at me.

“Hey, I was going to go easy on—_ow!” _

I elbowed him in the chest, almost knocking him to the ground, and held the pole to his neck. I hooked a foot around one of his calves and pulled up, causing him to fall back with a yelp.

“‘Severe ass-kicking,’ huh?” I managed to say through shallow breaths. His head hit the floor, hard, and I winced in sympathy. I didn’t think anything of it for more than a second, though, because now I had the upper hand. Literally. I was on top of him, knees stinging and arms aching as I tried to force the ends down over his neck. His eyelids widened once he fully processed what had happened, and he started pushing the pole up with all his might.

“Not—_fair, _” he said through clenched teeth, the corners of his mouth twitching and his arms about to give in.

_ Come on, just a little more…! _

All of a sudden, he seemed to realize something. What it was, I couldn’t tell, but his face relaxed for a split second before he tightened his grip on the pole and smiled.

_ Smiled. _

“What are you—?!”

I’d barely started talking before he twisted it and broke my hold, kneeing me in the stomach and pinning me as he touched the pole’s ends to the floor.

“That’s one,” he murmured, still wearing a shit-eating grin and looking down at me with his eyelids narrowed. Even after a good five seconds, he didn’t bother standing back up. I took several deep, shaky breaths before asking again, “What?”

He raised an eyebrow. “One point. For me. Jesus, you really hate me that much, don’t you?”

“I—what are you talking about?”

“You went batshit crazy there, almost ripping my skin off, knocking me over, all that. No mercy for poor little Jack, huh?”

I blinked a couple times before snapping back to reality. For a second there, I really thought he was going to…

_ What _ did _ I think he was going to do? _

I scoffed. “Well, excuse me for wanting to win. You shouldn’t have tried to go easy on me.”

“I guess I shouldn’t have,” he said, petty irritation lining his voice. He leaned close so our foreheads were about an inch apart. “Good to know.”

“One tick for the halfling…” I heard Edith mutter from her little booth, checking something off on her now-floating scroll. She snapped her fingers and the scroll vanished, sucked in a spiral into nothing like a cheesy magic trick. Both Jack and I frowned at the “halfling” bit, but I was more relieved that she couldn’t hear our conversations from there—at least, if she’d been telling the truth about that.

“You want improvement, boss?” Jack said under his breath, bitter as he stared at the booth with narrowed eyelids.

“Alright. I’ll show you improvement.”

I soon realized that putting that much effort into the first round was a mistake; now he really showed no mercy, beating me at least seven times in a row, making me lose my composure with some stupid psychological trick, or a weird question, or that _ damn cheeky smile. _My frustration was building up little by little with each loss, and a small part of me wished he would at least say something smug, or push me over the edge another way. I needed an extra kick. I needed to snap somehow. It didn’t help that every round, I was getting thrown and pinned to the floor, and his face kept inching towards mine the exact same way as it did when we first met. The only difference was I could see the ferocity in his features this time, and that only made things worse.

“Last round before break,” Edith called to us as Jack stood over me once more, hand outstretched in an offer to help me up. I could tell he was still fired up, though; his face was flushed, at least as much as it could be for somebody with little to no blood, and his hand gripped mine just a little bit too tight as he pulled me to my feet. The corners of his mouth were tugged upward in an odd middle ground—somewhere halfway between a genuine smile and a smirk.

“Well. You heard her,” he said with a raise of an eyebrow. I rolled my eyes, though something in me was definitely worried about how invested he was getting in these rounds. Maybe even a little scared. I knew he wouldn’t let it get to the point where he’d _ hurt _me, not in a million years, but…

Once again, I got shoved to the ground with the pole at my neck. Neither of us bothered talking as we “fought,” just focused on pushing the pole as far away from ourselves as possible. Jack gritted his teeth, the points grinding against each other as his gaze stayed locked on mine. Throwing him off right now was out of the question; he was making himself heavy on purpose, putting all the weight he could onto the pole and, subsequently, my arms. The slightest wind-up it would take me to push him off would’ve handed this victory to him on a silver platter. My arms were starting to shake violently.

_ Think, god, _ think! _ What worked last time we were like this? I had to say something. Something that would throw him off guard. _

I slid my hands to the ends of the bar, trying desperately to keep them off the ground. I had a feeling that at any moment a fire would start in his eye sockets, he looked so determined to win.

_ Should I say something about my kidneys again? No, this isn’t about that. He wouldn’t buy it this time, either. I need something out of the blue, something absolutely ridiculous, something like…! _

I stared him straight in the eyes and said it.

“I love you.”

He stopped pushing down for only a split second.

“What?”

And that split second was more than enough.

I raised an elbow and threw the bar off myself, making sure to hang onto one end. He staggered back on his knees, still in confusion as I knocked him to the ground and nearly broke the pole bending it over his neck.

_ Score. _

_ “Whoo!” _ I raised my arms and sat in place for a while, too engulfed in my victory to move. Jack propped himself up on his elbows, flabbergasted, as I combed some hair away from my face.

“Alright, first win!”

He made an attempt to crawl back and away from me, but gave up after about fifteen seconds, hopelessly trapped. _ Why doesn’t he just tell me to stand up? _

“Uh, can we backtrack a little bit here? What did you just say?”

“…first win?”

“No, before that. You know what I’m talking about,” he said, scratching the back of his head. I felt a twinge of embarrassment when I realized.

“Oh. Well, okay, that might not have been the _ best _way to get your attention…” I gave the matter some more thought, and eventually laughed. “Nevermind. That was totally the best way to get your attention. Now I just need to work on—”

Jack groaned before I could finish talking. “Of course! You didn’t mean it, I don’t know why I expected you to.” He pushed me off and pulled the collar of his shirt away from his neck. I frowned.

“Hey, I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad—”

“It’s fine. I’m gonna get refreshed, you can keep practicing if you want.”

“Practice _ what? _ I can’t really do it without…”

He had already left the room, and I sat cross-legged on the floor, wondering why it had been such a big deal to him.

* * *

“Hey, Jack…?”

“I said it’s fine.”

“Bullshit. Come on, just tell me! I’m betting you…” I was about to check myself for loose change when I remembered all of my belongings were back home. “…uh, five dollars that it’ll make you feel better.” _ That’s a safe amount of money, right? _

“You can’t bribe people into opening up, Sawyer, that’s not how it works.” Jack flicked the cap of his water bottle across the break room, watching it bounce off the wall, resting his head in one hand. “Besides, I have no use for human money.”

I scoffed. “Well, I had to at least try it. Is it really so bad that you can’t tell me? What, have you never heard somebody say…uh, _ that _to you? Is it that kind of situation?”

“It’s fine!”

The room was empty except for the two of us, with a heavily guarded crate of water bottles on a table in the corner. It almost felt like a cafe—circular plastic tables roughly lined the wall along with foldable chairs, a sure sign that whichever demon came up with this place had done so as a last resort and stocked it as cheaply as possible. The steam I’d seen before through the glass door must have been an illusion; this place was almost drier than the realm itself. I frowned down at Jack, who looked like he wasn’t the most comfortable here but didn’t have a whole lot of other places to go.

“Look, if you wanted me to leave you alone any other time, I would, but this is really going to affect you if we don’t sort it out. I know you don’t care all that much, but the demons expect a lot from you, they’re expecting to see you _ improve _. And what’s going to happen to that if they catch you like this?” I grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it over so that I was sitting across from him at the table.

“Besides, I can't help but feel like this has something to do with me, specifically, and it’s going to eat me up until I figure out what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said into his hands. I was growing impatient.

“Then what’s this all about?! Jack, you…you know I do love you, right? You’re one of my best friends. Did something happen that made you feel like—?”

“I know, I know. God, you’re overthinking this so much! It’s really not that complicated.” He lifted his head, still looking unhappy, but more so confused. It was like he was weighing two options in his mind, both of them equally horrifying, or great, or whatever.

“…do you promise not to freak out if I do something crazy?”

_ Shit. _

“Uh, exactly how crazy are we talking?” I folded my arms on the table nervously. Something was starting to come together in my head, I just couldn’t place what. His face turned a shade of purple almost indistinguishable from his normal skin color, but I still noticed. He drummed a few fingers against the wood as if trying to calm himself down.

“You know. Normal, human crazy. Like jumping off a cliff, or starting a fire in your backyard, that kind of stuff.”

My heart started racing as I put the pieces together.

_ He’s going to kiss me, isn’t he. _

I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to muster the courage to make a split-second decision. “I don’t think I can promise not to freak out, if we’re being honest.”

_ All this “we” talk—why did I have to start doing that?! How does he even think I feel about this? About him? _

His face fell, and once he started speaking again I knew I’d made the right choice. “I guess I can’t blame you. But can I at least explain what—”

“Just let me do this first.”

I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss, shoving every rational thought I could possibly have into the back of my head. I couldn’t afford to think anymore. All I could do was feel—and I felt the tar against my cheek, running cold, the way Jack’s teeth were pointed instead of square, how his skin felt like it would chip away if I touched him for too long. I felt his hand on my face, the other on my neck, pulling me closer, the claws that tried too hard not to scratch me, unaware that I wouldn’t mind if they did. Just this once. I tasted the blood on his lips, and felt the table between us, but I knew that was for the better. Because if there’d been nothing there, I was afraid that I might never be able to pull back from him.

I was kissing a monster. But I knew this one wasn’t going to hurt me.

When we broke apart, he narrowed his eyelids at me, out of breath. “You really have to win at everything, don’t you?”

“Not what I expected you to say, but I’ll take it,” I muttered, still not sure what the hell just happened.

_ You just found out this guy's in love with you, is what happened. How could you be so dense? _

To be fair, I…

Okay, I really didn’t see that coming. _ So sue me. _

He seemed to notice that he was still holding my face and quickly backed away, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. The tips of his hair were starting to flicker, turning red in a sort of choppily animated way that didn’t fit quite right. He flattened it against his forehead, trying to hide it while I stood at a loss for action. _ He’s used that body so often that it’s a defense mechanism now? _

“You love me,” he said as more of a realization than a question, his voice a hoarse whisper. I looked down at the table and nodded.

“I guess I do.”

“What do you mean, you _ guess? _You’ve had a pretty fucking long time to figure it out, did you only stop and think about it now?”

“I-I don’t know, all this time I thought you liked Nyx! You know, the only other human being I’ve seen you talk to here!”

Jack wiped some tar from his face and flicked it onto the floor, shaking his head. “Nyx—no, ew! Where’d you get _ that _idea?!”

“Your boss said you were in love with a healer, I didn’t think he meant me! Honestly, why would he? I’m just a med student who’s worked on maybe two people in my entire life, I wouldn’t say I qualify for _ professional healer _status.”

He stopped dead at whatever he was doing now, though exactly _ what _ it was I couldn’t say. He furrowed his eyebrows and curled one hand into a fist on the table.

“You heard us?”

“So he didn’t tell you. I was turning the corner just as you walked outside, you thought I was Nyx and yelled at me to mind my own business. I guess I should’ve been able to figure it out from there, that you weren’t talking about…hey, are you okay?”

Jack was scratching viciously at his arms, eyelids stretched wide open, his hands almost shaking.

“So he really did know. This is bad. This is very, very bad—”

“What’s so bad about it? I-I just got an answer to these hundreds of questions that have been spinning around in my head ever since—!”

“What’s _ bad _isn’t what just happened, it’s that he knows! I can’t even predict what he might do from here to screw this up, all I know is that he’s going to do it eventually. And when he does, he’ll make it as painful and torturous and—”

I kicked the table out of the way and kissed him again, this time hugging his body close without a trace of shame. I really had loved him for a while, I just could never find the word. I hadn’t even realized I felt _ jealous _when I thought he was into Nyx, though the pain definitely made more sense to me now. None of it mattered anymore. He kissed back despite everything, running one hand through my hair and another up my back. It felt almost like it was instinctive to him. I pulled back and opened my eyes, suddenly all too aware of what I was doing.

“I—sorry, was that too much?”

“No, I definitely needed that.” His voice was quiet and hoarse, still bearing the weight of everything he’d said before. I sighed and brushed a stray lock of hair out of his face.

“Look, I just need you to relax right now. For _ once _. Like how you were when you dropped by my house, all beaten up and half-possessed?”

Jack seemed to think, then cringed in realization. “Right. How I…kind of kissed you then, too.”

I couldn’t help but smirk as he said that. _ Told you it was going to be embarrassing. _

“Yeah. That. What I’m trying to say is, whatever happens happens. Your boss—if I know one thing about him, it’s that he was going to torture us anyway. He kind of already did. But I think we would both rather face that together. Wouldn’t you?”

Jack fixed me with a blank look that was somehow packed with dozens of emotions. He looked surprised, enamored, upset, _ envious _. His brow furrowed and he shook his head, almost disbelieving. Before I could ask him what the hell he was thinking, he whispered a question of his own.

“How do you see so much?”

The room fell silent. Through the awkward tension that now hung in the air and my own thumping heartbeat, I heard Edith’s voice quietly from outside:

_ “What’s taking them so long…?” _

Jack seemed to hear it too; one of his ears perked up, and his gaze snapped to the door leading back to the arena. He let out a defeated sigh and, with a slight sense of melodrama, fell back into his chair. I pulled mine up next to him and sat down, folding my hands in my lap and waiting for him to elaborate. Because what kind of question was “how do you see so much?” What was he expecting me to say back?!

_ It’s a gift, _ I thought ironically, without a fraction of an idea of what “it” could possibly be.

Jack stared ahead, eventually breaking into soft laughter, holding his head and running a hand through his hair. I leaned forward to try and catch his gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just…” He sighed again and kept looking ahead. “It’s kind of funny. All this started because you hit me on the head with a tray and lied about missing one of your kidneys.”

As sweet and sentimental as that was, I felt inclined to disagree. “It would’ve been the end of it, too, if you hadn’t decided to come back.”

Jack turned to me with a frown. “You think I chose to do that? That was the boss’s idea. He was _ livid _ that you slipped away. ‘S why I kept lying to him after that, why I had to keep you a secret.” He seemed to think about it. “I guess it really started that second night. When you made coffee, and you were being a real dick to me.”

“_ That’s _ what made you fall in love?” Before he could give me one of his vague, dismissive answers, I made a shooing motion with my hand. “Nah, I’m pretty sure it was when you dragged me into the forest and threatened me with that weird knife.”

“No, no, when I handcuffed you to that bench and you forgot your book—”

“That was the same day, dumbass. I think it was when you came back _ again _ and gave me my book—”

“Or when I tried to make a demonic pact with you, and you just were not buying it…”

Jack fell silent, with an expression on his face that said, “I fucked up.” I was about to ask what was wrong when I fully processed what he had said.

“…that’s what that handshake was? A pact?” I furrowed my eyebrows. “You were trying to trick me?”

He started to scratch his arms, a wavering smile spreading across his face. “Uh…yeah. Surprise,” he said, his voice wavering just as much. He probably thought I hated him right about now, but I wasn’t as angry as I was curious.

“What was it supposed to do?”

He lowered his head and hunched his shoulders, still smiling nervously. He didn’t answer right away; I thought I was going to have to pester him for the truth again. Letting out a defeated sigh, he held out his hands, like, _ this is the deal. _

“O-obviously, I would never do it now. But if you shook my hand, and my boss didn’t find out about you or the pact for…let’s say a month or so…um. Well, your soul would basically be his. I thought I’d introduce you as a new servant, make sure we never saw each other again so I wouldn’t have to face any of that—it was stupid, I know. I would’ve basically turned you into another me.” His voice was guttural and ridden with guilt, and I felt a pang of sympathy from how sorry he seemed. But instead of expressing it properly, I must have looked even angrier, because at the sight of my face he winced.

“Please, don’t look at me like that. Hey…” He placed a hand on mine, a bold move for the situation he must’ve thought he was in. “It’s different now. You know that. I told you, I wouldn’t do that now…” He knit his eyebrows at the look on my face, though I couldn’t tell for the life of me what it was now. I scoffed and shook my head, not bothering to swat his hand away.

“You’re an idiot. I would’ve opened, like, ten cans of whoop-ass on you if I found out _ that’s _ what you were trying to do.”

“Oh, so you’re not going to do it once we get back from break?” He didn’t sound so guilty anymore, a teasing tone creeping into his voice as he leaned closer to me. I had to fight back a snicker. _ Is he…trying to flirt? I mean, at least I can tell now. _

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to embarrass you in front of that demon, or your boss, or whoever sees it. No…” I threw him a knowing look and stood back up. “I’m saving that for when we get home.”

When he hesitated in standing up with me, I worried for a fleeting moment that I’d said something wrong and hastily backtracked.

“I mean, _ my _ home. I-I know this place is kind of where you live, and—”

Jack shook his head and stood, taking one of my hands. “No. This place was never home to me.” A tiny smile broke through on his face. “You’re right. When we get _ home_.”

He didn’t have to tell me what he meant by that.


	20. The Reason

We didn’t end up going back to the arena.

I found myself, as we made our way out of the realm, more and more afraid of what this would change in the atmosphere of this place. The few people who found out about it over the next couple of days (if some of them could even be called people) weren’t exactly thrilled. The news was annoying to some, disgusting to others, and apparently amusing to watch from far away. The only thing in _ my _ life I could see my relationship with Jack affecting was lessons with Nyx—and she didn’t take it so well at first, either.

“You two are…” she coughed into her hand discreetly, shaking her head with shut eyes. “I-I’m sorry, what?”

“Uh. Dating.”

I gave her time to process that, though I wasn’t sure why she thought of it as such a big deal. She already knew we were friends, she already knew he treated me better than he did the majority of people. Yet she still seemed apprehensive. After a good minute, she mustered a tiny, polite smile and twiddled her thumbs, gaze fixing itself on the same obscure corner of the room it always did.

“Sawyer…I’m not so sure this is the _ best _idea.”

“Look, I know you two have this whole grudge, and that you can’t stand each other, and everything. But Jack’s really sweet to me, we’ve known each other for a while now, and if I’m being honest, your sister…”

I trailed off, realizing it probably wasn’t my place to say who was in the right here, although the answer seemed fairly obvious to me. I rested my head in a hand, wishing to take back my words, while Nyx raised an eyebrow and folded her arms. She had shifted into full defense mode.

“No, no, go on. What about my sister?”

I sighed. “I’m sorry, it’s just…I've only heard one side of the story, and it seems to me so far that she was the villain. She basically killed him, dragged him into something he shouldn’t have been a part of, tortured him, and now he’s like this. It’s not like family defines you, or whatever, but if you’ve kept defending her after all these years…I think he’s right to be hurt. Just a little.”

Nyx huffed in a very _ well, excuse you _ sort of way. “Jennifer was the one who sealed his destiny. _ Our _destiny, everyone who’s ever worshipped the Highest. She found his rightful son, the one who would enact his every wish on Earth—”

_ “Nyx.” _

Her name came out harsher than I intended, but she stopped talking and fixed me with a curious look. I laced my fingers and closed my eyes, starting to get _ real _fed up with all of this “destiny” and “purpose” stuff everybody here kept pulling out of their asses. My words were dragged out of me, slow and sharp.

“Jack died. For the greater good or not, he _ died_. Just…think about that for a little while.”

Nyx’s face turned to a blank slate. I doubted she even considered that before; she’d always thought of it as what Jack's death had affected rather than how it had affected _ him. _ Did she even know how Chernobog treated him every day, as the demon’s so-called “son”? Would she have cared?

She huffed after a while and stood up, brushing herself off as she reached for a bowl of that infamous demon-healing paste she’d invented. She looked far more distant from the room now, far more invested in something I couldn’t see. I would’ve thought for a moment that she was _ jealous _ of Jack and me, if not for the weirdly smug gleam in her eye I caught when she looked back at me.

“Well, good luck with it anyway. That boy, his skin’s made of stone.”

_ Like I didn’t know that already. _

* * *

I could barely remember how much time had passed since then. A week, a month, a year? Maybe just a few hours. I couldn’t even tell what time it was right now, for Christ’s sake—when I reached for my alarm clock on my desk, it wasn’t there. _ Must’ve knocked it over. _ I didn’t bother looking for it on the floor when I got up.

My vision had gone foggy. No matter how many times I blinked and rubbed my eyes, it wouldn’t go away. My hearing was muffled, too; the outside chirps of birds were barely able to reach me. It felt like someone had stuffed a bunch of cotton pads into my head through the ears.

I half-stumbled out the door and down to my kitchen. A tiny voice in the back of my head told me I should be leaving the house right about now. I told it to shut up, because neither my actual classes nor occult healing lessons would be starting for another few hours.

_ …right? _

I chewed on an old Nutri-Grain bar that tasted more like gruel than anything. Gruel or air, actually. At some points, it felt like there was nothing in my mouth. I didn’t care enough to wonder if I was going crazy; this would tide me over until I got my hands on a real meal. I grabbed my messenger bag off the door and shook it a few times to make sure there was _ something _ there. A weight equivalent to about half my books tugged my arm down, and I hoisted the strap over my head, onto my shoulder. The familiar sensation of it digging into my collarbone as I walked never seemed to come—maybe I’d finally gotten used to it. Maybe I’d just hallucinated the events of the last five minutes, mundane as they were.

Buildings entered my view one by one as I moved along, like the world was unfolding right in front of my eyes. I only now remembered that Jack existed; left with nothing to do, I bit the inside of my cheek and made my way to the park, noting the strange emptiness of campus today. Nobody seemed to want to go outside. I couldn’t imagine why; it was a lovely day. At least, it wasn’t a very dismal one. I didn’t want to make up my mind about it just yet.

I approached the woods’ threshold and decided that if he didn’t show up in five minutes, I’d simply go in and catch up with Nyx. I didn’t want any bad blood between us, and I _ definitely _ needed to clear up whatever the hell had happened the last time I saw her. The look on her face when I finally tried making her see reason, when I tried to defend Jack for once and she just didn’t seem to be taking it in…I knew nothing I said had changed her mind. And I was fine with that—I just needed to make sure the whole concept of “Jack and I” didn’t complicate things for us. Not too much, anyway.

I was met with a near heart attack when Jack stepped out from behind a tree as I began walking into the forest. We both took a surprised step back; he didn’t seem to have been expecting me, either. This was pure luck, bumping into each other. I let out a poorly disguised cough and smiled.

“Uh—hey. Whatcha doing?”

“Why are you here?”

He sounded defensive. Overly defensive, with a look on his face that suggested I’d never been here in my life. I arched an eyebrow and folded my arms.

“Didn’t have much to do this morning. I was looking for you, actually, thought we could do something before classes start—”

“Well, maybe come back later,” Jack said, stealing shifty glances at the trees around him. Something in his tone was able to shut me up surprisingly well, considering how difficult it normally is to shut me up. Knowing him, there was probably some form of divine intervention taking place in the realm, or a weird ritual of sorts that he didn’t want me involved in.

I looked around as well, trying to spot anything that was the slightest bit wrong with this scene. Nothing. I sighed and put a hand on my hip.

“Well, I was also going to see Nyx if she was available. Y’know, as a backup plan.” I took a small step forward. “It shouldn’t take too long, whatever’s happening that you don’t—”

“No, you can’t _ be _ here.”

Jack placed one hand on a nearby tree and blocked my path. I narrowed my eyes to get a good look at his face—the fog still hadn’t cleared up—and he was dead serious. I held up my hands in surrender.

“Okay,” I said, widening my eyes and backing up. When it was clear he wasn’t about to move, I furrowed my eyebrows and started walking away.

“There’s something else,” he said, the hidden desperation in his voice stopping me in my tracks. I turned back around and waited a whole ten seconds before he continued.

“I’ll be going away for a while.”

“…what?” I paused, unsure if I should approach him again. “Is it something I should be worried about—?”

“You shouldn’t be worrying about anything right now, just…” He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose and pointed out to the other side of campus. “Leave the park. It’s not safe right now—”

“When will I see you again?”

As stupid as it sounded, I had to ask. His words had such a grave, final tone to them, they were almost scaring me. He didn’t answer; a bitter look started spreading across his face, and he turned his head in the direction of the park trail. The one that led to the demon realm. My chest started aching.

“…are you…breaking up with me?” Despite the horrible churning in my stomach and the pain wrapping like vines around every inch of my body, I scoffed. “I mean, it’s barely even been a week—!”

Jack raised his hands, the bitter look melting within seconds. “No, no, it’s not like…” He faltered, and then the stoniness returned—it seemed almost like he was caught in a battle with himself, fighting back whatever softness had leaked out of him. I remembered two revelations about him with a shiver.

_ Jack Gordon is a statue. _

_ His skin’s made of stone. _

“You need to go,” he said, his voice already hoarse. I looked to him, then at the woods for some kind of sign, and felt desperation tugging at my heart and throat.

“Can…can I at least say goodbye to—”

As I moved forward to start down the path, Jack stepped in front of me and grabbed my wrist, pushing me back.

“I said _ go!” _ His teeth were bared, and he seemed to just barely realize what he was doing before taking a step back, tone not wavering. “Why would you want to go back there?”

“I-I don’t know, I just thought…maybe if I make myself useful to him, _ actually _ useful, then we could still—”

“Sawyer, if this goes on any longer, he could have your soul!” He took a deep breath and held out a hand. I knew better than to try and take it.

“Look. We can’t risk being seen together.”

“Why not?!” I attempted to rip my hand from his, but he kept an iron grip on me. _ Does he want me to leave or not?! _ “Your boss knows everything at this point, I practically have a job in the realm—!”

“Well, you know what _ my _ job is?!” Jack’s breathing turned unsteady, weighted and raspy. He dug a fistful of claws into his hoodie, right over the heart. “To kill every human who sees me like _ this_. He still hasn’t let go of my little slip-up. You need to leave before something horrible happens, before I’m forced to do my job for real.”

“I can fight you off,” I said without thinking. Jack gave me a look of pity.

“I wouldn’t bet on that. Just swallow your pride for once, get out of here while you still can.”

He stepped forward menacingly, and I had a feeling he wasn’t bluffing this time. Something was changing in the way he looked at me; he seemed _ gone. _ Empty. Like something else was talking in his place. I still didn’t move. I needed to know if this was it, if he was ending things between us.

He drew in a shaky, emotionless breath.

“This has messed up so much. I shouldn’t have started talking to you, I-I shouldn’t have let myself get _ sucked _into the human world. That was my second mistake.”

I backed away a little more with each step he took closer. Even though he was barely trying this time, he looked more monstrous than I’d ever seen him. My heart rate started to increase, becoming louder and blocking out the noise around me like I was drowning.

“Wh-what was your first mistake…?”

The tar leaking from Jack’s eye sockets started to overflow and pour out like rain from a gutter, until there were two giant black stripes covering about half of his face. He held up a glimmering obsidian knife—the same one he’d brought here that day in September, the same one he’d dropped on my bedroom floor when Chernobog came searching for us—and tightened his grip on my wrist.

“Letting you get away with your life.”

* * *

It took a while for my eyes to adjust completely to the dark, but I could still see the faint pale outline a moonbeam had provided my window frame. The living room was still, silent, and calm. Eerily calm.

I was awake now.

I was on the verge of tears.

And something was lying on top of me, a dull claw tracing the same spot on the side of my abdomen in a circle.

My blood turned to ice. I grabbed his hand and was able to find the other by some miracle.

“Jack?”

My voice barely even came out a whisper. I didn’t want to try again for fear of sounding pathetic, but had little other choice.

_ “Jack.” _

He stirred with a light groan, stretching his limbs and nearly piercing my side in the process. I winced, hoping he wouldn’t notice, but he froze in place for a good minute before looking up at me. The moonlight illuminated the back of his hair, making a black and blue drawing of messy spikes and hills. The rest of him was merely a silhouette. He lifted his head and tried reaching for my face, but I kept his hands locked where I held them.

“What were you doing?”

“I…what?”

“What were you doing, one second ago? Just tell me.” I wanted to stop my voice from sounding so shaky and afraid, but knew I had bigger problems on my hands right now, anyway. Jack shifted back and rose to his knees on the couch, looking around confusedly until his gaze landed on my exposed stomach—in particular, the mark that must have been there from his absentminded tracing. He drew in a slow breath before speaking, his voice still groggy but holding a new sort of weight.

“…oh. Oh, Sawyer, I—”

“You can see it? How?”

He looked back to me and tapped the side of his head; at least, that’s what I was able to gather from his outline. He was more likely gesturing to his missing eyes. “I don’t know if ‘how can you see’ would be the right question here.” He withdrew one of his hands and held it close. “But…I-I mean, come on. You know I would never—I wouldn’t just do something like that, if there’s one thing I—”

“You wouldn’t _ want _ to.”

There was a long pause. Jack seemed hesitant to ask, but gave in after a while.

“Did something happen?”

Like always, I was tempted to lie. Say it was nothing, that I was just being paranoid. Painful, guilt-ridden silence froze the room for a moment.

“I had a dream that you were about to kill me.”

Against my every wish, the words were pulled from my mouth in a hoarse, jagged pattern that made me sound like I was going to cry. In all fairness, I probably was. Jack shook his head in disbelief, shifting closer but still drawing his hands in.

“Is…is it because of what happened last month? With my boss, how I had to pretend I was going to—”

“I don’t know. I-I really don’t know. Maybe.” I sniffed and shut my eyes, wishing the world to go away. I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, then one cupping my face as if he was afraid to break me.

“…I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Trust me, if it was, I would’ve dreamt it way earlier.” I let out an empty laugh that was a little too close to becoming a full-on sob. Jack noticed, unfortunately, and reconfigured himself to hold me in a loose hug.

“I don’t think that’s how these things work.”

“Yes, it is. Shut up,” I muttered into his shoulder, hoping that it would properly come off as sarcasm. He sighed, and I knew I was trapped.

“You don’t have to joke about this right now, you know. We can just…talk.”

“What’s there to talk about? I’ve already told you, I wouldn’t blame you if that happened. I-it’s not your fault if you lose control, it just—”

“That won’t happen,” he said firmly. I shook my head, incredulous.

“How can you be so sure? After everything that’s happened with your boss, and m-my _ family _ and how you keep getting into stupid fights, how can you—how can _ I _ know that one day you won’t just…snap?” I hunched my shoulders and pulled away from him, resting my chin on the couch’s armrest. “How do you know he won’t force you to do it?”

Jack didn’t hurry to answer that. After a minute, he reached over my head and turned on a small lamp sitting on a table next to the couch, arms falling into his lap in defeat. He looked almost younger than usual; the stress and trauma that had been lining his face since day one had started easing up on him a couple days ago, everything smoothing out and blending together. I can’t say I liked it _ too _ much, though I had no idea why. It just felt…unnatural.

_ Like everything else about him isn’t? _

He sat cross-legged in front of me on the sofa and tilted his head with pursed lips, as if trying to find the best way to phrase this.

“Remember the night I followed you to your parents house, and…well, I killed someone?”

“It was a little bit more than _ killing, _ if I’m being honest,” I mumbled, all that old bitterness leaking back into me. I hadn’t felt this distrusting since the first few days after Freyja died. Jack let out a sigh.

“Well, that wasn’t me. At all. You kind of know that at this point, that I never wanted to do it, but…I wasn’t even in my weird, drunken state then. I was still a monster. Still hungry. But when I turned around and saw you, saw your face…” He cleared his throat and hugged his knees. “I don’t know. I just knew I couldn’t hurt you. Can’t tell you why, god knows what was going through my head, but I was just…consumed. Swallowed whole by this idea that if you died, or got hurt, something horrible would happen.” He lifted his head, looking straight at the wall, with as dead eyes as you could get without actually having them. “If it’d been anyone else at the door, I probably would’ve eaten them, too.”

“I’m honored,” I said dryly.

“Please, just understand—you know I would never do it again, right? I’m not that stupid anymore, I only followed you because—”

“I know.” I sighed, suddenly regretting that little comment with every ounce of my body. “I’m sorry.”

Jack shifted about an inch closer, his arms awkwardly open for another hug. _ God, what a dork. I guess some things never do change. _

I didn’t tackle him to the ground or anything, just sort of shifted myself into his hold and took a deep breath. He rested his head on mine, hands fidgeting with each other in a stiff and controlled way as if he was trying desperately to make them stop.

“I get so lost and far gone when I’m in that state. You’re…kind of my anchor.”

I raised an eyebrow, unable to fight back a teasing smile. “Your _ anchor. _”

“You say that like it’s stupid. Wait, does—does it sound stupid?” His voice shook the tiniest bit, and I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t know, are we in a Hollywood blockbuster starring John Johnson and his good-hearted female sidekick?”

Immediately, Jack’s nervousness disappeared, and he lifted his head for two seconds to give me a sharp sideways look. “Oh, okay. You’re just being typical Sawyer. I’m trying to answer your question, you know.”

“Of course, of course. Continue.”

“I don’t know if there’s much more to continue with. It’s just…like that. I don’t know why. I just get sobered all of a sudden.” He leaned his head further onto mine in contemplation. “Like, if I’m mad as hell and I see a baby? I’m not going to kill a _ baby_. Not unless it’s being an asshole.”

“How can a baby be an asshole, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t know, maybe it looks at me weird? I have no idea how those things work.”

I laughed and dropped the subject, though I absolutely had the energy to keep tormenting him with it. My phone was nowhere near, nor was a proper clock—although judging by the view outside, dawn wasn’t coming anytime soon. I could relax. For once.

I nestled further into him, tucking my head under his chin, finding one of his hands with my own and intertwining our fingers. _ Not letting that thing go anywhere I can’t see it. _

Jack seemed to think for a while.

“…why did you want to become a doctor? You never really told me.”

My body tensed up right then, though I couldn’t tell why. It was sort of a dumb story; like something you’d find in one of those fake, inspirational videos on the internet. I bit my tongue by accident and winced—a cruel twist of fate, as that probably told Jack this was something huge and traumatic I was reliving. He sighed and squeezed my hand.

“You don’t have to, of course, I was just wondering—”

“N-no, no, it’s fine. I want to tell you.” I took a quick breath, unsure why it was getting to me so much.

_ It’s not even that big! I’ve told Morgan about it, Sean, Darla, some guy at a party four years ago…why should he be any different? _

“…when I was little, I had open heart surgery.”

That sentence took way more out of me than it should have. I suddenly felt exhausted, even more so than before; I remembered it was still the middle of the night. I should have been asleep. But then I had that stupid dream, and started crying and panicking and doubting whether Jack really _ would _ ever hurt me…

_ Shit. Maybe that’s the reason. Trust issues be damned, _ I thought with an annoyed sigh. I pressed on.

“We—my family and I—we were told that I might not make it if any part of the operation went wrong. Still don’t know why they would _ ever _ tell a kid something like that, I just know I was terrified of dying. Terrified even more of dying in a place like that.” I drew in a shudder of a breath, closing my eyes. “I hated all the blinding lights, the weird clothes they wore, the masks…the tools, those were the worst of all. I was so sure that these people weren’t here to help me. I mean, as a kid, you kind of always think that about strangers.” I forced a laugh, but hastily continued when I saw that Jack wasn’t buying it.

“Uh, so, hospitals. Coming in, I was scared shitless. Of course, I didn’t see anything happening during the operation ‘cause I was out. But afterward…the tears in their eyes when it’d been a success, that smile one of the nurses gave me when I was able to see my parents again…I don’t know. I loved that feeling. Just a couple seconds of seeing the human side of all those people, that they were so happy because of me, made me realize that they _were_ here to help.” I let myself smile a bit—a tiny, secretive smile. “I remember…one of my ex-friends’ moms was a doctor. When I talked to her about it, she told me that every single patient operated on means something. That with every failed surgery, every person they end up losing, you can feel the grief in the room. They really mourn everybody they can’t save. They’re people, you know?”

I noticed eventually that I was just starting to border on ranting to myself, and cleared my throat.

“Um. So, yeah. It’s nothing special, I’m sure you could’ve found a better story online. I just wanted to be a part of all that, y’know? I wanted to do good. I want to _ be _ good.” I recoiled in disgust at those last two sentences. “Ugh, look what I’ve become! Keep it on the down-low, Sawyer has a _ heart_.”

After my usual dramatics which lasted about a minute, Jack chuckled and kissed my forehead.

“Well. I guess that makes the two of us.”


	21. The Demons Get Even More Petty, If You Could Imagine

I wouldn’t have gone back to the realm if given the choice. Maybe for a couple sparse healing lessons, though I’d gotten all the basics down a couple weeks ago. But I would have simply avoided any sort of contact with the other demons, most of all Jack’s boss. I knew the more frequently I visited, the more he’d want me dead, until suddenly he wouldn’t be so powerless to just kill me himself. I, like many other reasonable people, wasn’t too into getting killed by an ancient grudge-holding demon. So I kept my distance for a while.

But one day, Chernobog _ summoned _ me to the realm. And based on the reactions I managed to catch on the way, you didn’t ignore a summons from that guy.

Jack offered to go with me in a heartbeat, and I wasn’t stupid enough to refuse. Sure, the most he probably would’ve contributed to this meeting was tossing up some smug remark and making his boss even more angry, but at least with him I’d be safe around the other demons. _ Maybe I could just make him wait outside. _

I was being led by a strange voice in my head—no doubt Chernobog’s—through some winding halls the realm was riddled with, far from its dry and burning center. I figured that he was bringing me to the room he’d confronted Jack in before I was dragged into that failed round of HTA training. The atmosphere of the hall I was currently walking down held the same aura as that, the same dizzying coolness which gave me the impression that I was in some rudimentary outer-space simulation. Chernobog’s voice dug into the middle layer of cranium in my skull, winding inside and out like a corkscrew. It felt no less violating than the approximate 1,000 other times he’d done it.

After a while, just as he told me to turn _ “round the corner and between those two pillars,” _ the noise in my head completely shut off, not even leaving so much as an echo. Like there’d been a disturbance in the radio signal. Like something else had been waiting to cut him off for minutes now. I stopped in my tracks, and Jack did the same with a knit brow.

“Did something happen?”

“Your boss just went AWOL. Tell me this isn’t some extremely holy place that’d burn his skin off if he entered?”

“Fingers crossed,” he said, folding his arms and staring at the two pillars ahead of us. They were shining, polished marble with dark blue cracks overlapping like spider web across their surfaces. The space around them was pitch black, as was the rest of this hall; I couldn’t tell where one wall started and the floor began, how far out I could stretch my arms before I grazed something. There was barely five feet of space between the pillars, and an intricately carved arch connecting them over our heads as a way to seal the entrance. Light seeped out of whatever sort of room this was supposed to be, pooling at our feet but not allowing us to clearly see what was on the other side.

Jack nudged me in the arm.

“Are we stepping inside, or…?”

“Just promise me you’ll control yourself if he shows up again,” I found myself saying. He scoffed and bit at a lip nervously.

“You don’t have to say that. I’m great at control. Never lost it my whole life.”

I snickered. “Right. Okay…”

We crossed the threshold hand in hand, stepping into what looked to be an old coliseum—stone pillars worn and toppled, the sky a haunting black, sand and dirt packed down beneath our feet so hard that we barely made any tracks. It was like we were in a whole new dimension. Jack’s ears perked up, his left swiveling back towards the entrance.

“This isn’t right,” he said, more or less to himself. I furrowed my eyebrows.

“What, you think we’re gonna get ambushed?”

“Like he’s not exactly the type to do that. Just…stay close to me, alright?”

He tightened his grip on my hand, and I ended up practically dragging him to the amphitheater’s center in waiting. I frowned when a whole minute passed, uneventful, and cupped both hands around my mouth.

“Hello?”

Without a second to waste, something crashed behind me—no, _ crumbled. _ The very ground started to quake, and I almost fell turning back around.

The pillars marking the entrance to this coliseum had fallen behind us, blocking our only way out.

I stumbled back and managed to grab Jack’s hand again before anything else could happen, assessing the rest of my surroundings. All the space between the other pillars was pitch black, like we were suspended in empty space—if we tried leaving by any other means, we might fall into nothingness.

_ Stupid, goddamn Maitland-house situation. Now we’re trapped. _

My breathing hitched as I started to really process what “we’re trapped” meant in a place like this.

“Goodness, why so scared, human? We’ve done hardly anything yet.”

I heard a smug, seedy voice from behind me, so real and so close to my ear that I half-expected to hit somebody in the face as I whirled around. Nothing was there. I opened my mouth to say something, but no words reached me. All I could think was, _ That’s not his boss. That’s not his boss. _

“Ah, so _ that’s _ what he calls the Highest? Would explain a lot.”

The voice returned, much more distant and casual as if it had already given up in its mission to frighten me. I leaned closer to Jack and whispered, “What is this? Why can’t I…”

“There aren’t only demons like Edith, Vickson and me that live here, Sawyer,” he muttered into my ear. “These things…let’s just find a way to leave—”

“And how are you planning to do that?”

There it was again. It sounded concentrated this time, honing in on the two of us and speaking intimately. I held back a shudder and balled my hands into fists.

“I have to be somewhere, you know,” I said in an attempt to cover up my fear. “We both do. What do you think will happen if Chernobog catches—?”

“Ooh, being extra-brave now, aren’t we?” Another voice spoke from right behind me, and both of us whirled around, frustration building up in me when we saw nothing there. Again.

“A word of advice, human: don’t just start spouting _ names _ and expect any good to come of it. So reckless with it, too…no forethought whatsoever! Although I wouldn’t expect much different from any friend of _ yours _.”

Just like that, it became very clear these things weren’t talking to me anymore. Jack narrowed his eyelids but didn’t move, as if he knew it wouldn’t make any difference.

“And what exactly do you mean by that?” His voice was quiet but lined with danger. “Think caref—”

“Aw, come now, little prince,” the second voice said without hesitation. “Just…look at it. That’s all you need to do. This girl, she’s human! And you’re a killer bound to the Highest’s command.”

“She is from the other side, Jack,” the original demon hissed. “She can’t be trusted.”

“Oh, I’m _ what _now?” I stepped forward, my fear melting away, very much ready for a fight. Jack’s eyelids widened as he pulled me back by the shoulders.

“No. Not now,” he whispered. “You don’t—”

“Let go! I want to understand exactly what these things are saying about me. What was that about being _ trusted?” _

“Boisterous! Ha!”

For whatever inconvenient reason, a third voice chimed in as if they were simply here to enjoy the show.

“I love it. Picked her wisely, Jack, didn’t you? Eh?”

“I’ll bet you thought she could _ save _ you from us,” the first voice crooned, its sound swimming above our heads in a circle as if binding us together with string. “That maybe all this time, what you’ve needed was a break.”

“From the violence.”

“From your father.”

“From the big, bad demons always _ picking _ on you…”

A tiny murmur from a good few feet away was able to break the chanting: “I mean, technically we don’t have to bet on it. We can hear your thoughts.”

Jack seemed to ignore that last remark; he held on tighter to my hand and knit his eyebrows. Though he hid it fairly well, there was no use in denying it—he was afraid.

“What are you talking about…?”

“We know you’ve been slacking off, Jack dearest,” the demons said as one, words dripping with malice. “No kills, no terror for weeks on end. Not caring what happens to those around you, as long as you don’t hurt…_ her._” Their collective voice dropped a good few pitches, out of what I could only assume to be disgust. I looked down and saw a thick, dark layer of mist swirling around our feet, ensnaring our ankles as if preparing to drag us underground.

“Since you care for her so much, we thought we’d make her just about as useful as you.”

Jack bared his teeth. “If you even _ think _ about—”

“Now.”

The air itself seemed to take a swipe at my eyes, missing by about a centimeter. I staggered back as something hit me in the stomach, an invisible force that felt akin to a brick. It didn’t take long for things to descend into utter chaos from there; both Jack and I were being punched, prodded, pulled by the hair, twisted by the arms, thrown to the ground. Even the quickest incantation I could remember wasn’t fast enough to fix anything between the demons’ blows; fighting back was our only option, except we didn’t know exactly how to do that, either. They could inflict physical damage on us. We couldn’t do the same so easily.

We must have been dragged away from each other at some point, because I heard a weak scream from across the coliseum and the sound of claws ripping through flesh. Whatever they were trying to do to me, they were doing to Jack tenfold. I choked on a gasp, my mind flashing to my darkened house, the basement, Chernobog impaling Jack with a single swift motion from upstairs…

_ No. He can recover, he’s done it before! I wasn’t going crazy last time. I _ can’t _ be going crazy. As long as these things go away, he’ll be fine. We just need to stop them. _

_ I just need to… _

As I tried standing up on shaky legs, something hit me on the back of the head and knocked me down. Hard. I collapsed with a loud ringing in my ear, feeling like something was lodged in my skull. Though I didn’t have the energy left to scream, the pain rippled through my body and boiled me alive. I let out a weak cough, digging my fingers into the sand. _ Did they just throw a stone at me?! _

Through the yelling and muffled, distant laughs, I thought I could hear one of them say, “I got it!” But I didn’t have the time to try and figure out what it meant. Even if I did, I might not have cared enough to. I kept my eyes shut, which proved to be a wise choice, because something swiped at them again as I lifted my head and probably would have cut one in half if I’d kept them open.

“Jack!” I yelled into the ground, still laying low. I heard his voice from several feet away, desperate and strained as the demons seemed to reel themselves in.

“Boss!” he called. His breaths were quick and guttural, as if he were on the verge of angry tears. _ “Chernobog! _What the hell is this about?! You—you’re just going to let them—”

“Please.” One of the demons sniffed in annoyance. “Your ‘boss’ wouldn’t get involved with this if you were on the brink of death. Or…double-death, I should say.” They all snickered, their voices becoming a distant echo. I felt Jack’s hands on my shoulders, but didn’t dare open my eyes just yet.

“You’re sick,” he snarled at the sky. “We haven’t done anything to you, and you just—”

“Neither have all those humans you slaughtered,” one said simply. “But we all have our reasons, now, don’t we?”

“That’s enough.”

I found myself becoming annoyed out of all things, clenching my teeth, scraping a fistful of sand from the ground and crumbling it in a circle before me. How accurate that circle was didn’t matter—my eyes were still closed. I said under my breath, _ “Defendat daemonia” _ and arranged my thumbs and forefingers into a rectangle shape, laying them down where the circle’s center should have been. One of the demons said hurriedly,

“What are you—”

And I moved my hands sharply, separating them and breaking the circle’s outline in the sand. I heard the sound of scraping metal and resisted the urge to cover my ears; I needed to keep my hands grounded for this to work. Wind howled and echoed in my head along with various yells and protests, and soon I knew they were trapped. _ Not exactly what I expected that to do, but works for me. _

“Go. Leave,” I said, my voice breaking slightly in the air. It seemed to bounce off of something about fifty feet from us. Jack started lifting me from the ground, but I jerked away from him.

“No,” I hissed. “I have to stay like this. It’ll break if I don’t.”

“Just what do you think you’re doing?!” the leading demon yelled from its improvised prison. I scoffed, despite still being frightened out of my wits.

“I’m not doing anything. This spell, on the other hand, could do something real nasty if you don’t go. Right. Now.”

“You’re lying, human, this can’t do anything to us. We will break out of _ whatever _you’ve done, and you’ll suffer some more for it—”

“You can try,” I said, mock-contemplatively. “You might run out of energy, though. Even if you don’t, this spell doesn’t just hold you. The more you struggle, the more you fight, it’ll just kill you faster. Like, uh…slow-burn holy water, I guess.” _ Mixed with Chinese handcuffs, _ I would’ve added, but that might have put a damper on the scare factor. _ Do they even know where China is? _

“You—this is—we _ know _you’re lying! We can read into your each and every thought, we know what you’re thinking even as we speak—!”

“Am I thinking, ‘oh, god, I sure hope this works’? Am I thinking, ‘I sure hope they go away and don’t come back’?” I forced a weak chuckle. “I think you’re forgetting that I’m _ human. _ That means I suffer from a little something called empathy. Maybe you should stop thinking about what’ll happen to me if you don't back down, and start thinking about what might happen to _ you._”

Though I was sure the spell’s hold on them hadn’t changed, I could feel the uncertainty and terror in their prolonged silence. I heard Jack’s unsteady breathing next to my ear as he kept his grip on my shoulders, careful not to move me too much. I still couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes.

“I think you know what to do,” I continued, trying my luck one more time. I was surprised by how easy this all came to me; being in this realm, where a disaster was always one bad chance encounter away from happening, had sharpened my senses and forced me to think quickly. Not that I didn’t already know how to do that, what with being…well, _ me _. But Sawyer Rafael from two months ago would have died, right here and now, if faced with all this.

“No. No, no, that blasted healer, what if—what if it’s already started to take effect?” One of the demons began to chitter frightfully, letting all the possibilities sink in. “This stupid human magic, i-it isn’t like ours, who knows how truthful she’s really being—?!”

“Calm yourself. She still hasn’t opened her eyes yet,” another said with the impression of an excited, mischievous child. “Wait til she does, wait til she does—!”

“None of you will be waiting for _ anything _ if you don’t leave right now!” I spat, holding back a gasp when my hands nearly slid from their spot on the ground. Jack shifted his hold to my wrists, keeping them locked in place. I wondered why he hadn’t said anything so far; I thought he’d be jeering and mocking them while we stayed safe from their touch. He might have been too surprised to say anything of substance. It didn’t bother me; I appreciated the help more than any words he could’ve stringed together.

“…fine,” the demons said in unison. Their voices all harbored varying amounts of boredom, fear, annoyance, and whatever other emotions I couldn’t bother to deal with now.

“We hope to _ see _ you soon, human,” said one mockingly, placing a strange emphasis on the word _ see. _ The others stayed silent as my spell quieted and unfolded, a sign that they were drawing away.

When silence reigned for a whole five minutes, with no sign of the demons around, I lifted my hands off the ground and collapsed into Jack as the spell began to wind down completely. I heard a sound that suggested the very air around us was bending, contorting to try and right itself. I realized with a trace of fear that my basic protection spell had manipulated the air into a shield, a prison cell…

Jack was hesitant to speak. From the way my eyes were still closed, he must have thought I’d passed out.

“…Sawyer?”

He was so quiet that if there had been anything or anyone else in this giant arena, I wouldn’t have heard him one bit. He shook me very lightly, though I could hear his panic at my lack of a response.

_ “Sawyer.” _

“I’m fine, Jack, I just need to rest.”

“That was amazing,” he breathed without hesitation. I knew he was trying to comfort me, but his voice was shaking like nothing else. “You were amazing. What the hell has Nyx been teaching you all this time? A spell that _ kills _demons? How did you—”

“It doesn’t kill anybody.” I coughed and sat up on shaky elbows, mustering a smile. “I made that part up. Actually, I pretty much made all of that up. It’s a shield spell; I must’ve done it wrong somehow, if it ended up trapping them…”

“Okay, that’s arguably _ even more amazing._” Jack shifted his grip on me, turning my body to face him. I coughed again, my head hanging, my limbs still weak, the pain in the back of my skull still sharp and pulsing. He sighed and brushed a few locks of hair out of my face.

“You can open your eyes now. It’s over.”

For some reason, I still didn’t want to do it just yet. Something felt wrong. I sucked it up, though, and settled on covering my face with my hands to make it easier.

“Okay.”

I slowly opened one eye. Then the other. Then I spread my fingers for a peek at his face, to make sure he was really there, but saw nothing except black.

“…did they turn off the lights?” I whispered. Jack hesitated.

“No? I don’t think so. Take your hands away from your face, they’re blocking—”

“I’m looking through my fingers, dumbass. I just can’t…”

My voice broke before I could say the next word.

“I-I…no. What kind of sick joke is this? My eyes aren’t still closed, are they? Did something glue them shut?!”

I felt him grab my shoulders, then pull my hands from my face. “Nothing happened to them. They’re open, I don’t know what you…”

“Why can’t I see you?” I asked, so quietly I could barely hear myself. When he didn’t answer me, I started yelling.

“Why can’t I see you?!”

My breaths became quick and shallow, my heart started beating faster than ever before. Whatever I’d felt before while getting attacked by the demons, that was nothing. _ This _ was fear, it was horror, scooped straight out of its container.

Jack hugged me close after I nearly started crying for the fifth time.

“Sawyer…you’re blind,” he said gently. I had a strange feeling he would have said, _ It’s not so bad once you get used to it, _but he and I both knew those words were useless right now.

“You’re blind,” he murmured into my hair, as if he was singing me a lullaby. I could feel the tar dripping onto my head as he searched for something to say that would help.

_ But nothing will. _

_ I’m blind. _

_ I’m blind. _

_ I’m… _


	22. I’m Able to Laugh Sometimes

He carried me out of the forest when I was ready, and trust me, that took a long time to happen. I felt like I was about to drown, I couldn’t stop gasping for breath. He had to keep hugging and assuring me, “I’m here,” and I didn’t have the guts to say, “So fucking  _ what _ if you’re here? I just lost my sight.” I knew he was trying his best. And I knew that nobody’s best was going to be enough for a while. So I let him carry me out, cutting the chokes and sobs down to one per minute for both of our sakes.

I wanted to wrap my arms around his shoulders to support myself, but couldn’t get my arms to reach high enough. So I resorted to clinging weakly to a small part of his hoodie, closing my eyes and burying my face as often as I could. He clearly wasn’t taking a regular path out, otherwise he would have made a good few turns on the way. He was walking straight through the trees, maybe some even disappeared when he got too close just to clear the way. We didn’t talk. We didn’t even try. My head started to pound and my ears were ringing with an old song. I tightened my grip on his sweater.

_ Big girls don’t cry. _

“Uh, what are you doing…?”

I flinched as another voice came closer and closer to us—somebody I recognized from one of my classes. My mind started to race with terrible possibilities.

_ No, no, he shouldn’t see me like this, if he tells any students or god forbid a  _ professor  _ I’m going to have to tell them I— _

“She was lying unconscious on the forest floor. I’m bringing her back to her house, over on the other side of campus.” Jack, bless his soul, tried to sound all noble and professional with this stranger, and I tugged on the patch of his sweater that I’d cried into.

“I’m not unconscious, Jack,” I said, my voice barely able to carry, even in the quiet night air. “And you can put me down now. I can walk there myself.”

“I’m not so sure about  _ that.  _ It’s just a couple more minutes, let me take you home. I’ll leave you alone after, if that’s what you want.”

“I’m gonna have to side with old…Nichols, isn’t it?” The guy said, ever so oblivious. “Yeah, Leigh Pomerantz told me about you. Listen, if you want to party more, best do it in your own room. It’s getting pretty late, and you don’t look like you’d get very far walking anywhere.”

I would’ve laughed at this another time, but somebody mistaking me for a drunk partygoer didn’t seem as funny to me right now. He said it with all the confidence a fraternity guy could muster from his soul—and his little comment of “Leigh told me about you” didn’t hit me so great, either. I mouthed “yeah” and nodded, making sure my eyes fell half-closed to sell the image. Might as well have gone along with it.

“See,  _ somebody  _ here’s making sense. You need sleep, trust me.” Jack took a step sideways like he was making to go, when the other guy started talking again.

“Where’d you two come from, anyway? Costume party? Your makeup is fucking sick, let me tell you that.”

“What do you—” Jack paused when he realized that  _ sick  _ was supposed to mean good. “Oh. Um, yeah, thanks. We should probably go. Bye.” The words came out rushed and a bit choppy, but the other guy didn’t seem to notice.

“Take care of yourselves, yeah? Stay safe,” he called.

“Will do,” Jack muttered, sounding just a tiny bit annoyed. Despite myself, I singsonged,  _ “theatre kid…” _ and could feel him shake his head.

“You humans are impossible.”

“Yeah, we know.”

* * *

I took a sick week.

Strangely enough, the first thing that came to my mind after waking up from my 12-hour power nap was to email my professors and tell them I wouldn’t be able to make it to class. For how long, I had no idea, but I told them a week. Those emails were the most I communicated with anyone for a good few days, the rest of my time being spent wandering my house with a hand on the wall at all times to keep me steady. My head would snap up at the slightest noise, my hands flinching away from anything that brushed my skin when I didn’t expect it. I quickly realized blindness could turn your life into a nightmare; I relied so heavily on how much I saw, hell, that was what my entire career had been built upon. And now my life’s work was all for nothing.

Oh, sure, maybe there were blind doctors somewhere out in the world that made it. Maybe if I pulled myself together, told my friends, my teachers, my family what had happened, I would still have a chance to do  _ something  _ worthwhile. But all I could do right now was feel miserable and shut everyone out. At least, everyone who didn’t know how to unlock my bedroom window from the outside.

I sat on the couch with my head hanging and my hands folded, nails digging into the webbing between my knuckles until they were on the verge of bleeding. We found out once I’d gotten home that nothing had been lodged in my head by those demons; in fact, there was barely a scratch visible when Jack looked for anything out of place. He told me he had a guess as to why I’d felt so much pain back in the realm, but I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. Right now, though, I was itching for some sort of explanation.

_ Is that just how it feels to have a demon steal your sight? So why was my head burning like I’d just gotten stabbed?! _

Jack, true to form, had acted like he was in absolute tip-top shape. He hadn’t gotten  _ hurt _ by those demons, no, they barely laid a finger on him! Nevermind that horrific scream I heard just feet away, or that little remark they made about him being double-dead…

“God,” I muttered to myself. “Stop being so bitter about this. You know he’s just trying to protect—”

_ Knock, knock. _

Ordinarily, even in this miserable and sobered state, that would have scared me. But I was getting desperate for a distraction. I slowly lifted my head and leaned back on the couch to try and catch some noise; scuffling, the drag of their feet on the pavement,  _ some _ audible trace of whoever was at my door. No dice. I voted to ignore the visitor if they didn’t bother knocking again, and was just about to forget it all when I heard a familiar voice.

_ “No. Is she gone…?” _

I jumped in my seat.

“Nyx?!”

I stood up and made for the door, but my foot got caught on a table leg and I fell to the floor.

“Agh— _ shit!” _ I tried to stand back up, but felt a jolt of pain in one of my knees and fell back, leaning against the couch with a wince. Before I could try again, something creaked behind me and I froze in place, not daring to turn around. I heard quiet but frantic footsteps drawing closer and closer, and after a while felt a warm hand on my shoulder. She took one of my hands in an offer to help me up.

“Sorry, I know how rude I must be, intruding like this…” Nyx faltered when I didn’t look her way, when I didn’t even bother turning my head. I blinked.

“If it doesn’t trouble you, Nyx, could you maybe move that table out of the way?”

That was the first thing to fall out of my mouth. In reality, I wanted to yell at her, ask her what in  _ hell _ she was doing here, how she’d found me after a mere week of me not attending lessons.  _ Well, I suppose that’s what magic’s for, huh? _

Nyx shifted one end of the coffee table so that I had enough room to stand, and pulled me to my feet. I winced again at the pain in my knee, but didn’t feel it was bad enough that I’d have to sit back down. She held me by the shoulders.

“Sawyer, what happened? Are you alright? Did…are you—”

“Oh, don’t worry about it too much. I’m kind of over it at this point,” I lied. I assumed, foolishly, that she had any idea what I was talking about. She hesitated.

“Over…what?”

After a moment, I turned my head to face her as best as I could and gave her an ironic, apologetic half-smile.

“I’m blind,” I said, my voice breaking slightly. Nyx let go of me, slow and unsure, and I could hear tremors of fear in her words as she carefully picked them out.

“Because of a demon,” she guessed, more in a breath than a sentence. I didn’t answer, though I was certain she could see the answer clearly enough. She sighed.

“I’m so sorry.” Her hand was on my back again. “Try to stand up straight, I’ll help you to a—”

“No, no, don’t worry about it.” I cleared my throat; I really hadn’t talked to anyone in days. “Hey—you came here to do something. What was it?”

I heard an eventual shuffle, like she was pulling an object out of her pocket.

“…somebody from the realm asked me to give this to you.” After a long silence, she sighed again and pressed it in my hand. “It’s not Jack, if that’s what you’re wondering. I don’t think it’s…whoever did this to you, either. It’s a message. Perhaps you should open it later.”

I turned over the object in my hands. It was rigid and diamond-shaped, with a dozen tiny knobs on one end like a weird, sci-fi remote. My thumb found one knob that was larger and flatter than the rest, and started to trace over it in a circle. “‘S this how?” I muttered.

“Yes.”

“You know I can’t exactly read…”

“No need. It’s not that kind of message.”

I sat back down, not knowing where else to go from here. Nyx patted me gently on the back. It seemed she didn’t know exactly what to do, either. She said in a strangely confident voice,

“You’re going to be alright.” A pause. “You’ve always got someone on the other side for you. You know that, right?”

_ Other side. _ There it was again. Since when was all this a game?

“…yeah. I know,” I said in a slight croak. “Thanks.”

Everything about this felt so bizarre. Nyx was my teacher, a  _ cultist, _ who was loyal to a fault to Chernobog and hated my boyfriend’s guts. But she was kind, and I’d excused everything else about her for that. She had always felt more like an equal, a friend, than anything else to me.

And right now, I felt inexplicably bitter towards her.

“I should probably be going,” she said under her breath. Without much more of a goodbye—maybe she sensed my simmering anger in that moment—she was out the door, and I was alone. Again.

I turned over the object, device,  _ whatever _ in my hands one more time, wondering who could’ve sent this. Were they friend or foe? What sort of “friend” did I have in the demon realm besides Jack, anyway?

I pocketed it, staying rooted to my spot on the sofa. Ten minutes passed in absolute silence. I could feel exhaustion and stress pulling my skin down towards Hell. Probably looked like it, too.

I started when I heard creaking from upstairs and a quiet cough, relaxing just as quickly. He’d entered my house like this a thousand times; when would I get used to the sudden noise?

Jack hesitated to speak first.

“…Sawyer?”

“Down here,” I said. He was down the stairs and in the living room in a heartbeat. I stood up shakily, massaging both my hands as he let out a whistle of a breath.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late, I had…things. To take care of.” Though he tried to make it as ambiguous as possible, I knew what he really meant as soon as he’d said it.

_ People. To eat. _

My hand automatically drifted to the device in my pocket. A creak in the floorboards told me he’d stepped closer, and I had a feeling he was frowning at me.

“Was somebody here?”

“No,” I rushed to say. He could probably tell I was lying, but didn’t push it as much as I expected him to.

“Are you sure? It looks like you…”

“Jack. I’m fine. Nobody was here, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I think I do, if I’m being honest,” he muttered. I tried not to take it the wrong way, as a  _ I have to protect you because you’re weak now _ sort of thing. It was getting pretty hard not to take most things that way. Still, I folded my arms as he came closer, taking one of my hands and intertwining our fingers. He held my chin and gently pressed a thumb to my lips, like he’d started doing whenever he wanted to kiss me. I nodded after a second, wondering how many more times he would have to do that before things changed.

_ No, you idiot, it’ll never change. Your eyesight, it’s gone. You can’t just take it back. _

“Are you sure? You seem out of it.”

It took me an astonishingly long amount of time to realize he was talking about the kiss, and hadn’t overheard my thoughts. I shut my eyes, not to block out anything, of course, but because it was still nice to scrunch up my face as a refresher.

“No, no, it’s okay. Trust me, I need this.”

Instead of laughing like I hoped he would, he let out a tiny sigh and held my face, pressing his mouth to mine. It wasn’t a sad or regretful sigh, I could tell that much. What it  _ had  _ been was still beyond me. I hated having to rely on my hearing alone to tell how others felt, though since the demons’ attack I hadn’t left my house enough to remember what it actually felt like to interact with people. Let alone, without my sight. My cynicism growing with every passing day didn’t help this sorry state much.

I let myself sink into Jack, even if it only lasted a moment. It almost felt like we were in a movie, or on the cover of a romantic novel.  _ Ha.  _ Take away the fact that we were kissing, and there was practically nothing romantic about this.

We broke apart and I lowered my face, knowing it wouldn’t make a difference if I was “looking” at him or not. He  _ tsked _ and lifted my chin, leaning close so that our foreheads touched.

“Hey, you’re not as subtle as you think. I was able to live through this kind of thing for years before that sneaky, demonic bastard found me. So you’ve got to live for me, too, okay?”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “What are you talking about? I am living.”

“You’re  _ alive.  _ But you haven’t left the house for days, you don’t let yourself get distracted for a moment, you haven’t even cried since the day it happened. It’s not good to just…stay like this.”

I rubbed under one of my eyes, trying to come up with an excuse. Nothing reached me.

“I-I know, it’s just…you’re going to have to let me be sad for a while, Jack. I can’t force myself to feel better, or do anything when I don’t see the point. Give it time.” I lifted my head to give him a small peck on the lips, instead kissing his nose by accident. It seemed to send the message I’d been going for, anyway. He snickered, brushing a lock of hair away from my face.

“Okay. I just can’t stand seeing you like this. But let’s come to a compromise: we  _ both _ hang in there. For each other. You’re my best friend, you’re my…” He faltered, leaving the hall in silence for a good minute. I raised an eyebrow.

“What, are you trying to come up with some couple-y nickname for me?”

“Yes…? Kind of,” he settled with.

“What did you have in mind?” I asked, trying to keep the amusement from creeping into my voice. He let out a low, awkward whistle. I had a feeling he was scratching the back of his head, looking just about everywhere but at my face as he scrambled for an answer.

“I don’t know. Princess? Teddy bear?” He seemed to realize the second those words left his mouth just how weird they actually sounded. I shook my head, screwing up my face again, and crossed my arms.

“Both of those are disgusting. Just ‘Sawyer’ is fine.” 

“Okay, Just Sawyer.”

I voted to ignore that little quip, reaching up to pat him on the head with an attempted grin. “Besides, the feeling is mutual, my dear Jimothy.”

He gasped, offended, and flicked me on the nose. “But  _ you  _ can call me that monstrosity?”

“Pssh, your face is a monstrosity!”

Jack laughed harder than I could remember from these past few days, and eventually, I started laughing too. We collapsed onto the couch, trying to contain ourselves, but the sheer stupidity of it all kept getting to us. After many minutes of giggling and the eventual sigh to end it, I narrowed my eyes, still smiling.

“So this is living, huh? Second-grade playground insults and being delirious from staying inside for a week?”

Jack ruffled my hair, ignoring my “hey!” of objection. “Please, this is only  _ the _ highest form of living ever known to man. All I can think of that’s missing is a six-pack of Coke, maybe some fresh organs—”

“Wait, you actually drink that corrosive garbage?”

“So you don’t object to the ‘eating human organs’ part anymore, is what you’re saying.”

“Hey, this is your hypothetical paradise, not mine!” I held up my hands and tilted my head back over the sofa, closing my eyes. He took the opportunity to shift close to me, throw both arms around my shoulders, and rest his head on mine.

“Aw, but what would paradise be without you?”

I laughed again. “Shut up.”


	23. Messages

I kept hesitating to activate the device Nyx had brought me. Something felt so ominous, so unnerving about the way it sat in my hand that my thumb would continually hover over the button before shying away again. Jack sighed from my desk; he was sitting by the computer, a new email window open, waiting for my “go” to start writing to Morgan. I’d told him we could start as soon as I heard the message—he still didn’t know Nyx had been the deliverer, and I intended for him to never find out. The idea of her being alone with me in the human world, and in my own house to boot, would have angered and worried him to no end.

“You know,” he said after my fifth attempt to get over myself and open the damn thing, “you’re going to have to hear it eventually.”

“Yeah. I-I just—what if it’s _ them? _ What if it’s some sort of curse, and when I open it something tries to attack me—”

“Then we’ll fight it off.”

He said it so plainly, and without the slightest bit of bias in his voice that I was almost inclined to believe him. After all, I’d performed the shield spell with my eyes closed and was able to drive the demons off with a few empty threats.

_ But that was different. _

“Okay,” I said, heaving a sigh and giving the main button one jab with my thumb before holding it away from my face. For a moment, there was only silence. Then…

_ “Hey, handcuff-girl.” _

I was met with the jovial and unbearably smug voice of Vickson, clear as day and right next to my ear. Surprisingly, I didn’t flinch; I was overcome with anger far before my other primal instincts could kick in.

_ “Heard what happened to you through the grapevine… _ so _ sorry for your loss,” _ they said, clearly not meaning a word of that. _ “Upper management’s been awful quiet lately. I can’t help but feel like maybe they’re planning out another little message for you in case you decide to come back. I mean…come on, human, you didn’t think we actually wanted you here, did you?” _

They broke out into quiet laughter and sighed.

_ “Hold on, is Jack there with you? You know what, I’ll just pretend he is. Hi, Jack-a-boo! Oh, Christ on a cracker, how we’ve missed you down here. Boss is getting worried, you know. Thinks you’re falling into a pit. Don’t you fret now, darling, don’t you _ fret. _ I know better than that. I’d say you’re more of the sinking type. _

_ “If I had to guess…that healer girl, Smith, gave this to you, didn’t she? So obedient. Wouldn’t know right from wrong if you held ‘em in front of her face. At least, if you mentioned her _ sister _ in there somewhere. Ha ha ha!” _

Jack seemed to hold back a snicker at that part, despite everything that had been thrown at the two of us before. I tried not to let it annoy me. Vickson’s voice was now all that rang in my ears, one scathing remark or petty insult after the other. _ They never run out of those, do they?! _

_ “Ahh…anyway! Get better soon, Sawyer, dear. Or…well, I guess it’d also be a plus if you died. Just don’t stay in that middle area too long. You’ve seen what happens there well enough yourself. _

_ “Toodles!” _

The receiver (or whatever kind of demonic entity was playing this message) nearly broke in my hand as a loud hiss echoed throughout the room. I guessed that Vickson had pulled some horrifying, grotesque face at the end as a final attempt at intimidation. Whether they’d forgotten I couldn’t see this or simply wanted my imagination to fill in the blanks was beyond me. I narrowed my eyes and started fiddling with the other various knobs on this remote-thing.

“Well, fuck you, too,” I said under my breath.

“Asshat,” Jack muttered at almost the exact same time. He sighed, and a squeaking sound told me he was leaning back in my desk chair. “Try not to take it personally, Sawyer, they just hate—”

“Yeah, yeah, they just hate all humans. I know.” I let out a small sigh of my own and narrowed my eyes at the remote. “They better be extra careful where they step from now on,” I said scathingly. “‘Cause if they get hurt, I’m _ not _ helping to fix them up.”

I could almost hear Jack’s thoughts from where he was sitting: _ I really don’t think they care. _

“Mhm,” he said. “You ready to start writing?” At my lack of a response, he rolled the chair forward and found one of my hands, linking our pinkies for a moment. “We can do it tomorrow, if you want.”

“I’m okay. Just thinking. About what I want to say.”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

He scooched back to the desk and tapped his fingers lightly on the keyboard in waiting. I puffed up my cheeks and let out a giant breath.

“Dear Morgan,” I began. It took everything in my body to keep my voice from breaking. Jack didn’t start typing just yet.

“You sure you want to open with that?”

“Well, what else can I say?”

“I don’t know, just seems a little fancy for something like this.”

“Don’t judge my wording and just write, please.”

“Okay, okay. _ Dear…Morgan. _” I heard the loud clack of the enter key and the sound of him turning around in his chair to face me. I took a breath and folded my hands in my lap, coming over all shaky for some reason. I was supposed to be over the shock of it all by now. But this was different; I was actually going to tell somebody about it. Somebody who didn’t know the first thing about Jack, or the demons, or how I barely scraped selling my soul just to learn how to heal people faster.

“…I got into an accident two weeks ago and went blind. I’ve been staying home for a while, and I’m not sure when that’s going to change. I would call my family, and I really should, but…I-I’m scared of what they’ll say. How they’ll react. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I needed time on my own to think.

“You don’t have to come over if you’re busy—actually, if you are busy, sit your ass _ down _and shove me to the back of your mind, because you need to get all your stuff done first. I don’t want to be an inconvenience right now. But when you’re free, I’d really appreciate it if you came over and we could just talk. I’ve been alone for a long time, and…”

I trailed off, not knowing what else needed saying, and after a while forgot that I hadn’t ended the sentence. I was snapped back to reality by Jack waving his hand in my face. Not that I could see it, but I felt a small gust of air hit me and jumped awake.

“Oh. I—sorry.”

“It’s okay. Is that all you want to write?”

I furrowed my eyebrows and started chewing at the dead skin on my fingertips. Gross, I know, but slightly comforting.

“I don’t know. I…well, I guess if there’s more I want to say later, we can just send another message. Right?”

“...right.”

I lifted my head to “look” around the room. Nothing seemed off; in fact, nothing had for a good few days. I still couldn’t help but worry.

I turned back to Jack with pursed lips. “I haven’t seen the inside of my house for two weeks now. Tell me you didn’t coat everything I own with that tar of yours?”

“No, it’s good. I learned my lesson with that. Trust me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, just—whenever I got tar on your stuff, just by accident, you’d get this little sad, disappointed look on your face. Broke my heart every time,” he added in a melodramatic croak, causing me to snicker.

“I can’t blame you. My disappointed looks are _ lethal _.”

Jack sniffed, and heavy silence fell over the room.

“Be right back,” he said, his voice suddenly stifled and gravelly. He got up from his seat and walked across the hall to where I assumed was the bathroom. Without giving me a chance to ask, he started coughing violently—either into the sink or the toilet, I couldn’t tell—and something landed there with a _ splat. _ He gasped for air as I sat up, alarmed.

“Jesus! Are you okay?”

After a few more hoarse breaths, he muttered, “I think my boss is trying to get the last of him out of me.”

“That’s not what I asked, dude. Are you _ okay?” _

“...yeah. I’m fine.” He groaned, and I heard a series of disconcerting cracks as if he was stretching himself to the limit. “Think I’m gonna be coughing up good old demon juice for a while, though.”

I immediately cringed and brought my knees up to my chest. “Wow. Please don’t ever say those words in that order again.”

“What? Demon juice?” Jack sounded amused, and the sudden desistance of an echo told me he’d poked his head outside of the bathroom for a moment. I shook my head with shut eyes and a wrinkled nose.

“You’re disgusting.”

* * *

I didn’t manage to get much better by the day Morgan visited. I was eating oatmeal, out of all things, and slouching in my kitchen like some moody teenager when I heard the doorbell ring. Frantically. About five times. I raised an eyebrow.

“…wow. Excessive,” I settled on.

Jack piped up from the upstairs bathroom, where he’d been visiting for however many days with his ceaseless coughing fits.

“You think it’s her?”

“Only one way to find out, I guess.” Trusting that I didn’t have to tell him to keep out of sight, I guided myself to the front hall and rested one hand on the doorknob.

_ Once it’s open, there’s no more hiding. No more keeping all this to yourself. _

_ But I have _ Jack. _ He knows everything that’s happened. _

_ You know plenty well that’s not enough, _ I fired back at myself. I bit back another morose sigh and twisted the knob.

I didn’t need to open the door all the way; Morgan threw it open for me once she caught sight of my face and crushed me in a hug.

_ “Sawyer! _ Are you okay? What have you been _ doing _all this time?”

“M’okay,” I said, muffled by her coat and hair. “Christ, let go for one second, you’ll suffocate both of us!”

“I can loosen up, but I’m not letting go. Not for another _ lifetime _.”

“Morgan…”

“Okay, okay. I’m just”—she drew in one shaky breath and held me at arm’s length—“I’ve been worried sick. You didn’t respond to any of my texts, I haven’t seen you in forever!”

I winced and bit the inside of my cheek guiltily as I remembered how little I’d checked my phone over the past few weeks. Not that there would’ve been much to check, anyway—even if there was, I couldn’t see it.

“Yeah, I…didn’t answer you, did I.” I quickly shook my head and pulled her inside by the hands. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat. Catch up.”

“Not so fast, young lady—!” Morgan let out a squeak of alarm as I started dragging her to the kitchen, along a memorized path that was now second nature to me. She didn’t seem to trust this path all too much. I couldn’t blame her.

“Hold on! What happened to you, _ how _ did this happen in the first place? Sawyer? Hey—_listen to me._” Morgan pulled us both to a stop, and I didn’t bother turning around to face her. It was clear I was in for another one of her motherly lectures about my health, and putting others before me, and blah, blah, blah.

“You scared me, you know. You’ve been alone for, what, two weeks now? That message you sent me…god, I can’t lie, it was a little depressing. You’re always putting me and everyone else before yourself—”

_ Called it. _

“—and now you’ve gone _ blind _ and that hasn’t changed one bit! You’re not an inconvenience, you’re a human being. I can’t believe I have to tell you that at this point.” She sighed and stepped closer to me, turning my body to face hers and shifting her grip to my forearms. “Soy, you can’t just act like nothing’s wrong when I finally get to see you. It isn’t fair. I know you’re not really fine. I _ know _ you.”

“Morgan, really, it’s okay. I’ve had time to process this, I’ve come to terms with—”

“Oh, knock that off. Two weeks is not ‘time to process this,’ it’s a grieving period. You don't have to rush all this, something horrible happened to you and you have the right to be upset!”

“You should sit down—”

“Not until you do.”

I was about to insist, and really pathetically at that, when one of the floorboards upstairs creaked. I heard a muffled “sorry” from my room, and sighed after silence rang through the house a second too long.

“Okay. One thing I probably could’ve told you: Jack’s here. Just don’t go looking for him, or anything.”

Morgan scoffed. “So you brought old Jack Nichols here before telling me?”

_ Note to self: make sure she never finds out about Nyx. _ “Come on, that’s different. He was…well, he was kinda there when it happened. It’s hard to explain. He’s just been staying here for days, I think he might be more traumatized than I am.”

“Not true,” Jack called from his little hideout. Not one minute after, he hacked and coughed like he was about to take his dying breath.

“…and he’s sick,” I said, unsure if the lie was horrible and rushed or perfectly timed. It would give me a reason to hide him on the second floor, anyway.

Morgan let go of my arms.

“Y’all shouldn’t be in the same…nope. Not today. Let’s just get _ you _ in a seat,” she said firmly, leading me by the shoulders to the living room, “and get talking.”

The next two hours dragged on without a tangible end. Every minute was just a new question Morgan asked me followed by my bland, emotionless answers. We sat on the couch, practically leaning into each other, a sort of sad tension between us. It was as if we were both avoiding any sort of wording that would lead to another argument—if you could even call what had happened before an “argument.” Everything simmered down a little more with each passing second, to the point where it felt like we were two kids wrapped together in ice. Like it was just us against the world. I kept blinking a lot more than was normal; maybe to hold back tears, maybe because there was something in my eye. I wasn’t really sure, but I kept doing it.

Finally, Morgan drummed her fingers on my arm in thought.

“Um—so, sorry if this is a bad time to ask, but I’m serious right now. Are you and Jack…dating?”

I closed my eyes and sighed. “Oh, no, you caught us,” I said dryly. “We have plans to elope in two years’ time.”

“Soy, I’m not making fun of you, or any of that. It’s fine if you are. I just wanted to know.”

_ Well, this could certainly make things more complicated. _

But what can it hurt?

After a moment of hesitation, I hugged my knees and nodded. “Yeah. I guess you could call it that, ‘dating.’ It’s…ugh.” I shook my head and screwed up my face like I’d just sucked on a lemon. “It’s been a crazy year.”

Morgan rested her head on my shoulder. “I get that. He does seem nice. Not very much of a people-person, though, right?”

“Eh. We’re working on it.”

For some reason, right then and there, I wanted to start crying. This is what I’d been missing. All year, ever since that one day in August I hadn’t told a single person about Jack. The _ real _ Jack, not that weird, stick-up-his-ass human version. _ We’re working on it. _ Isn’t that what had been happening all this time? Of course, nobody could ever know what he really was. His whole history, the nights I’d spent treating his wounds, the missing eyes, I knew I would have to take all that to the grave. But I was talking about him to someone I loved. Even if we weren’t _ together _ in that sense, it would have been torture to keep him a secret. I could find ways to explain the tar and blood later on— _ maybe his imaginary illness? _

I leaned into Morgan and closed my eyes again. I wondered what it was like to deal with the things he did, every day. It baffled me, just then, how he didn’t fall into an identity crisis at any given moment; Jack Gordon versus Nichols versus “Eyeless Jack” must’ve been a pain in the ass to sort out.

After a moment, I started letting it out. All of it; the tears, the shaking, the clutching both of my arms until I almost bled.

“I…Morgan, thank you.” I could barely keep my voice from trembling between sniffs. She sighed and hugged me closer, resting her face between my neck and shoulder.

“Oh, c’mon, Sawyer, you’re going to make _ me _cry,” she muttered, not sounding too put-together herself. I started laughing, quiet as it was.

“Then cry, you coward!”

Oddly enough, that was what got us to stop. Morgan let go of me eventually, like she was about to try prying more information out of me. I winced in anticipation.

“D’you want to tell me how it happened?” she asked gently. “Your eyes look fine. Just…glazed over.”

“You already asked me that.”

“And you said you’d explain it. But you haven’t.”

I bit my lip. Somehow, I still hadn’t come up with a likely story for that. I gave myself all week, and still could only chop it down to an “accident” to anybody who asked. Which wasn’t many. Besides, I knew Morgan would call bullshit on any lie I spewed. As much as she respected my privacy, I had a feeling she wouldn’t let me avoid the question this time.

“It was an accident,” I repeated dumbly. I felt pathetic, using that phrase over and over again, sounding less sure of myself each time.

“I know _ that. _ Could you at least tell me what you were doing? Where you were? It could be important.”

My mind raced for any specific, harmless thing I could throw out to pacify her. “I-I don’t know! It just happened, I was in the park, Jack was there—”

“Alright! The park! That’s all I wanted to know.” She’d taken off her glasses by then, by the sound of her tapping its temples together. “You are horrible to interrogate, you know that?”

“It’s a gift.” I flopped back with a sigh. “I’ll be fine, Morgan, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a temporary thing. I just have to wait until I can see a doctor, a real one.”

“What do you mean, _ real one? _What other kind of doctor could you go to?”

I smiled and looked up at the ceiling—at least, where I knew it was. “I don’t know. Witch doctor?”

Upon saying that, hope fluttered in my chest, if only for a split second. _ Maybe Nyx could help somehow. She’s technically a professional, right? _

_ But wouldn’t she have helped you when she visited? _

The bitterness of when she’d dropped by, days ago, started seeping back into my veins. For once, just once, couldn’t she have done something more? Something forbidden? Was her precious “god” really worth more than helping me live my life? None of this was fair, it wasn’t deserved, not one bit of it.

Did she really mean what she said? About being on the _ other side? _

_ So obedient, _ the voice of Vickson taunted me. It had already latched onto the innermost parts of my brain, threatening to never let go. I held myself tighter.

Morgan shifted in her spot, and I was pulled back to reality.

“Sawyer? You okay?”

I slowly turned my head to face her. God, I wished I could see her face. Even if it was the most distraught thing in the world. I wanted to see her.

“No,” I said. I could feel her shoulders relax at last—that had probably been the first time I answered her honestly today. I curled into myself and traced the treads of denim across my knees.

“I’m not…but you’re here. Things could be worse.”

Morgan sighed. “That’s what they all say.”

I wished that Jack could come downstairs and be a part of this. I knew he wished that, too. And we both knew why it could never happen.


	24. Bargaining

Of course I didn’t want to go back. Any reasonable person wouldn’t. I wasn’t even summoned this time—Jack and I seemed to silently agree that the only way to fix all of this was to deal with the devil. Whether Chernobog had been behind this or not was still up for speculation, though Vickson’s comment about “planning another message” told me all I needed to know. I’d started cursing his name for every little inconvenience, every tiny trial I endured because of my blindness. I’d started calling him _ boss. _ The word held every ounce of bitterness for me as it did Jack, and I wasn’t exactly wrong in calling him that; I’d been his dutiful employee for a good few months, from working alongside Nyx…

Oh, god. I wasn’t ready to start thinking about her again.

The point is, we ended up going back anyway. Straight back to the realm, and straight to Jack’s boss himself. As weak as I’d become over the past several days, we were both prepared to kick his ass if and when this all went downhill. At least, prepared as we could have possibly been. Jack needed to creep around in complete darkness to get to the park—some part of me wondered if he would ever get his human disguise back again—and I needed to be guided around, a fact that struck me shamefully and sent me into a tiny spiral when I realized it. I still hadn’t gone outside more than two times since the “accident.”

We came to another compromise; he would guide me there, and I would stay in the shadows with him.

“What if…” I mused over cold canned soup, drumming my fingers on my chin. “…I went out, bought a water gun from some nondescript store and stormed the realm myself?”

Jack snorted. “Good one.” He paused. “You finished with that? You’ve been staring at it for, like, five minutes now—”

“No, wait a second. Hear me out. I mean, your boss would kind of have no choice but to do what we said…? Y’know, fight fire with fire. Violence is the only language people understand,” I said in a dramatic moan, holding out my arms before me like a tormented Shakesperian hero. He sighed and tapped the empty Campbell’s can.

“We throwing this out?”

“Uh—recycle,” I answered after a moment’s hesitation. “And don’t try to tell me it wouldn’t work. Water is like some forbidden, end-all-be-all weapon there, right? Last time I used it against him, he—”

“Escaped?” Jack pulled up a chair beside me to sit down. “I think you’re forgetting he can travel through walls. Who’s to say he won’t just run away again?”

I muttered curses into my arm resting on the table, the words grinding up and mixing with each other in my mouth until they turned into an incoherent stew. With one final scoff, I said, “Just crush my dreams, why don’t you.”

He clicked his tongue, kissed me on the cheek and stood up. “Hey. We’re going to be fine, okay? He might not even try anything this time.” He gently lifted my chin, but didn’t turn my face towards him.

“And if he does, you know what we’re gonna do?”

I gave in to a tiny smirk. “Haul his ass?”

“Bingo. Ready when you are,” he said with a pat on the back as he walked to the door.

All the way to the realm, naturally, I became conscious of how vulnerable I was. Very conscious. Branches grazed my arms, barely protected as they were, and I’d shrink into myself a tiny bit more each time. Jack always reached to comfort me, but words seemed to fail him at this point. There was nothing more to say; and he could tell I didn’t like repeats.

We finally reached the clean circles of ash marking the realm’s entrance. Hot air blasted up from around my feet and seemed to be trying to ward me off. This typical drying-off process had, ironically, never felt like the warmest welcome to me. But even now, it seemed crueler. More hostile. _ You’re not wanted here, _ it said.

_ Like I don’t know that, dipshit, _ I said back in my head.

As we walked further and further, out of the humans’ forest and into the demons’ realm, I knew Jack had started to realize with me that I was in far more danger here than before. It was just beginning to sink in, the reality coming down hard like a blanket of stinging snow as I heard a couple jeers from either side of me. We kept walking. Jack shifted his hand on my shoulder as if to reaffirm he was there.

“Don’t worry. Anyone who touches you is getting their soul punched out of their body.”

“Back so soon?”

I gritted my teeth and turned my head the other way as Vickson so bravely approached us. Jack didn’t bother to hide the growl prying its way up his throat, and the demon giggled without a care in the world.

“Hold on now, young man, hold _ on. _ No need for such animosity, no, I simply wanted to say hello—”

“You’ve said it, now go back to the hole you crawled out of—”

“Jack! I’d expected those kinds of words from your rude little pet, but you?” Vick’s voice deepened and slithered through my ears, booming in my head like a certain other invasive demon I knew.

_ “Now that boss is out for your little Sawyer’s blood—” _

Something wispy hooked around my ankle and I kicked it away with such force that for a moment I was afraid I’d trip over myself. I scowled; the voice ebbed away as if in amused reaction.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” I mumbled under my breath.

“What was that?”

“I said _ you’ll never leave me alone, will you?” _

My teeth stayed clenched for a good thirty seconds, all throughout Vick’s fading laughter and Jack’s hushed assurances that they would, indeed, get a proper soul-punching later. Right now, we needed to focus—even if it meant neglecting Vickson the demon’s astounding need to be given what-for.

We reached a corner. _ The _ corner; the one that Jack had turned and followed Chernobog’s little pests into a dark, cold, lifeless hall. More lifeless than everything else here, anyway. Though I couldn’t exactly see it now, I could feel its daunting presence, that same gut-wrenching feeling I got while walking down it before. Or maybe that was just my own familiar sense of fear kicking in.

Either way, I was starting to be led again.

I held my hand out behind me for Jack to take while I listened to the distant whispers growing in my mind. There were no words, at least, not that I could make out. But there were senses. Hushed, urgent little sounds that nudged me in one direction, then another, until I was walking steadily along a line on which they evened out. Every now and then my hand would start to slip, and Jack held on tightly like I would drop into the darkness if he let go for a second. Like he would lose me for good.

Of course, I knew those little whispers were just his boss. He knew I was here. He knew when and how and why, he knew everything. He was just guiding me to the lion’s den to deal with me easier, and for once, I didn’t care. If it got all this over with, who was I to complain?

As Jack and I entered the empty side room and came to a stop, something hissed behind us. It was akin to a cymbal swoosh, interrupted once or twice by the sound of crumbling stone. It was like the very walls were being bent, morphed, pulled shut at the seams…

“Shit.”

Jack let go of my hand but didn’t move otherwise. “Of course he’s sealing us in,” he grumbled.

Before anything else could happen and disrupt his sense of menace, the demon spoke.

_ “So you’ve decided to come back.” _

I instinctively flinched away from the voice, though there really wasn’t anywhere I could go since it was echoing in my mind. I mustered a glare at the empty space before me. I wanted to talk back, say something, _ anything. _ But nothing reached me. This was purely business, after all; there was nothing I had to say right now that wouldn’t get me killed. An ass-kicking would only ensue, started by Jack and I, if Chernobog pulled something completely unfair like he usually did and we had no choice but to fight back. Otherwise, my eyesight…

_ “Good as gone, I’d say, human.” _

I choked on a breath, realizing I’d thought all of that on surface level and made myself susceptible to his bullshit mind-reading tricks. I clenched my teeth.

“If you could spare me a little privacy, actually, that’d be great—”

_ “You would do well to listen.” _ Chernobog’s voice leaked out of my mind and into the physical world, flaking and splitting off as if the thousands of voices that made up his one were now able to speak separately.

_ “We were under this impression of sorts—silly, we’ll admit. Immature. But we happened to fall under it—that our intended message to you had come through clearly.” _

_ “And yet,” _ said another individual voice of his, so close to my ear that I startled, _ “here we are. Back in the realm. Where _ you _ do not belong.” _

He was scolding me. Treating me like some mixed-up kid who’d acted out during recess, he was acting like he was my _ parent. _ I suddenly understood every bit of patronized rage Jack felt toward him; this was humiliating. It was frustrating. I knew that as long as he kept speaking like this he would never feel like he had to take me seriously. I knew he knew that, too, and I knew it was why he was doing this.

_ “Why are you so resilient? You humans treat such disrespect, such disruption as if it were a good thing. I’m sorry to be the one to inform you that it is not. You, _ Sawyer _ Rafael, as you so call yourself, are a distraction. A flaw. And you expect us to welcome—” _

** _“Cheater.”_ **

I yelped and stumbled backward, catching myself on Jack’s arm. He rested a hand on mine, confusion and concern evident in his voice.

“Sawyer?”

“I—w-wait, didn’t you hear that…?” It took much more effort now to keep myself from stuttering. As soon as it had left, the voice came back, venomous and scathing.

** _“I’ll have to admit, you certainly gave us a scare. But that’s nothing compared with what we’ll do to you as soon as the Highest—”_ **

“Stop it, _ stop it!” _ I let go of Jack and slammed my hands over my ears in a futile attempt to block it out. To my surprise, the voice was cut off, and Jack turned back to his boss with anger trembling through his words.

“You. Whatever you’re doing to her, knock it off—”

_ “As if I would indulge in such pettiness _ now _ ,” _ the collective Chernobog said, genuinely insulted. _ “In case you haven’t noticed, Jack, your friend has managed to make a few enemies since she’s shown herself here. How absence makes the heart grow fonder…” _

** _“We know all about your little trick. That cheap spell, a mere _ ** **shield** ** _ to keep us afraid and at bay—he should have known better than to trust any human enough to—”_ **

_ “That will be all,” _ Chernobog interrupted with a dangerous growl. As soon as they’d even _ started _ to paint my “little trick” as his fault, his tone shifted from light and mocking to sharp and cold. The other demon’s voice went away again, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

_ “In that case,” _ he continued in a lazy drawl, _ “why bother coming back here at all…? Oh—oh, no.” _ Instead of worried or annoyed, he sounded amused. _ “You still cannot see.” _

“Yeah, _ no shit _ I can’t!” I was finally starting to crack. My hands curled into fists, nails digging into the folds in my palm as I tried to contain myself. “You know, we kind of came here in peace. We were going to see if maybe you could _ help _ me get my sight back? And then we’d be out of your hair for good! You wouldn’t have to worry about me ruining your perfect system anymore, or whatever it is I’m ‘disrupting,’ whatever it is you’re so obsessed with.”

_ “You’ll learn to live with it,” _ Chernobog spat. I’d already managed to strike a nerve with him, and I hadn’t even gotten the one thing I needed yet. _ “Allow it to serve as a reminder. How differently would have things gone, had you not meddled in what did not concern you? If you hadn’t tried to mix _ our _ magic with that pathetic game you call science?” _ I could almost see him sneering down at us as the voice lifted itself, resting once more about two feet beside me.

_ “Or better yet,” _ he growled, _ “if _ you _ hadn’t let her escape.” _

Jack seethed. “Oh, so this is all my fault again?! Actually…” He scoffed and snapped his fingers, cooling down dangerously fast. I knew he’d explode at some point; he was just trying to delay it. A risky practice for somebody like him.

“You know what, I should’ve expected this. Someway, somehow, you _ always _ manage to trace everything back to me. No, no, it’s funny. It’s hilarious. I-I mean, you expect me to _ care _ that I haven’t gotten my kills up.”

I heard him take a step forward, then another.

“You expect me to give one honest, flying _ fuck _ that I let Sawyer slip that first night. You expect me to _ want _ to finish the job, you expect me to…oh, god, you really don’t get it.”

_ “I understand perfectly well why—” _

“You expect me to follow your rules! Well, guess what, pops? I’m not _ killing _ somebody I love! I thought that’d be a no-brainer to something like you, all high and mighty yourself…”

_ “Somebody you _love?”

Chernobog sounded scandalized. Outraged. Jack scoffed again, like the fate of my life was the most casual thing in the world.

“Uh, yeah. We love each other. Did you not hear me right?” He let out a dramatic gasp, and I had the feeling he was cupping both hands over his mouth in mockery. “Is that a bad word? Love? Must be to you.”

_ “All this time, we thought you were simply acting in insolence. Rebellion. But…_this? _ This is a great offense, not only to us, but to—” _

“Like I give a shit. I did whatever I did, for whatever reason, I don’t _ care _ anymore. Just help her. Be fair. I realize that’s asking a lot,” he said scathingly, “but I kind of need it this time.”

The room fell silent. After a moment, something whirred in the background, something small but ubiquitous. Like the locust-swarm of a laugh that Chernobog’s pieces had released back in the realm’s clearing. It was like different parts of him were planning. Conspiring. Boiling over.

_ “I ought to end your life, boy.” _

The whirring grew louder, as if he were winding up to strike.

_ “Right here, right now.” _

“Uh, I’m sure that’d be nice, but for Christ’s sake just _ help her out. _ Maybe you’ll make some revenue off of it.” Jack chuckled to himself. “Our lord and savior, the great Chernobog, world-renowned philanthropist! All these demons come flocking—‘uh, sir, could you heal my son?’ ‘Excuse me, sir, is it true that you’re a _ decent person _now?’ God, boss, just think of the possibilities, would you?”

“Jack.”

He shut up as soon as I started talking again. Both of them did; the whirring came to an abrupt halt. I held my arms and narrowed my eyes at the floor.

“Let me handle this, please.”

I could almost hear boss’s half-satisfied, half-impressed line of thought: _ Wow. She got him to stop talking. _ Something in me prayed that that would be enough for him to be willing to help me. Or maybe I was jinxing myself just by thinking of it; after all, out of pure spite, who was to say he wouldn’t just dismiss us right then and there?

_ “At least you’re able to talk some sense into him,” _ he muttered begrudgingly. Another moment passed, and he sighed. _ “Very well. Those irritating things have had their fun. Let us see what I can do.” _

Something coiled around my wrist like feathery ribbon.

_ “Step forward, human.” _

My stomach churned and I jerked my hand away.

“Wait.” I paused, wishing for some sort of change in the air to let me know if he was telling the truth. “You’re being serious, right? This isn’t some trick to get me to give you something, you…you can actually fix this?”

_ “Of course. There is always a way to undo what is done…for a price,” _he added gravely. Before I could respond, Jack muffled his laughter with a hand.

“Oh—oh, okay. I see what’s happening.”

_ “You would do well to keep quiet, _ sonur minn_—” _

“No. Hold on one second, I asked you to be fair. She’s not pledging her soul to you, or giving you a lock of her hair, or whatever kind of shit you’re asking, _ none _of that. You’re going to give her her sight back, and we’ll just be on our way—”

_ “Hush, child! This does not involve you.” _

Despite everything Jack was saying, I stepped forward, my heart in my throat. “Okay. What do I have to give?”

One of Chernobog’s demonic wisps began to speak, but Jack yelled over them.

“This isn’t fair! It was one of _ your _kind that blinded her, not some little human accident! She shouldn’t have to give anything just to see again.”

“Jack, really, it’s okay—”

“No. It’s not. These demons, all they do is take. They’ve taken so much from you, from _ me, _I’m not going to stand here and do nothing while they talk about their bullshit prices, trying to reel you in!”

_ “Jack!” _

“What? It’s true. The only reason old boss hasn’t incinerated me yet is because he needs me.” I had a feeling one of his twisted, on-the-edge smiles was starting to cross his face right about now. I reached forward and by pure luck was able to grab his arm.

“Listen, I’m just as angry as you are. But it’s either this or I don’t get my sight back at all. I know how rich this is coming from me, but please don’t fight him. Not now. It won’t make things any better.”

_ “If you are done with your couples’ squabble, I don’t have all day to fix you.” _ Something of a greedy smile was creeping into Chernobog’s voice, making me ever so wary of him. Still, I looked ahead and took one step forward.

Cold mist swirled around my ankles and at my fingertips—a strange occurrence for a dry-as-bone place like this. I furrowed my brow. Something seemed to be pulling me along, ushering me onward to Chernobog with the gentle touch of a mother. For some reason, I had the feeling it wasn’t even him doing this. Maybe it was an outside spell. Maybe he’d detached parts of himself again and was using them as appendages to draw me in.

“If you try anything funny, I swear to—”

_ “Quiet.” _ He cut Jack off and started pulling with more force. I stood my ground once a good few seconds had passed, because I felt something just barely start to burn my feet. I took a step back.

“Hold on. I think that’s close enough, what are you trying to—”

_ “Perfect.” _

* * *

I couldn’t guess how much time had passed when I woke up, but based on the painful ringing in my ears, Jack had been chewing his boss out for a while now.

_ “I knew it! I knew something would happen if I let her go ten _ feet _ from me, I told her not to trust you—” _

** _“And what, pray tell, do you think I’m doing that’s so horrible?”_ **

_ “I don’t think, I know. I-I know you were going to try and take her soul, you’ve wanted me to get rid of her for months—” _

** _“Then I’d like to think I am doing you a favor. Isn’t it exhausting, dragging this pathetic thing around like an animal…?”_ **

Something lifted my hand and uncurled my fist, batting it around in the air as if trying to make me look alive. My palms were greeted by cool, refreshing air, and I numbly realized how long I’d kept them closed. Chernobog’s voice was gentle but loud, collected but booming in my ears. I had a feeling when the pounding in my head stopped, I would hear them both regularly again.

_ What happened? _

“You are one sick motherfucker, you know that?” Jack was almost laughing, his voice now clear as day. “I—okay. Okay, I’m done. The second she wakes up, I’m taking her out of here and we’re never coming back. You’re gonna leave us alone, you won’t _ look _ at her again or so help me—”

_ “Then I wish you luck in leaving, my dear boy. In case you’ve forgotten…” _

“What just happened?”

I took his pause as a chance to speak. My voice was weak and husky. I lifted, with difficulty, one hand to my chest and managed to find a rip in the fabric of my shirt.

There was a cleanly punctured hole through there. My heart felt like it was burning, the patch of skin exposed was soft and stung when I touched it.

“Sawyer!”

Jack rushed over to help me up. I winced as he lifted me by the arms—that tiny spot on my chest seemed to rip me in half when I moved. I tore myself away and collapsed on the floor again.

“Stop. It—it hurts.”

“I’m sorry, you have to get up.” His voice was on the verge of breaking, and he frantically gathered me in his arms when it became clear I wasn’t moving. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“But wh-what about my—”

_ “Now. _ He tricked you again, Sawyer. It’s all he does. We shouldn’t have come here.” He sucked in a breath between his teeth as he tried to hoist me up, but I found his hands and pried them off.

“N-no. I still need to—Jack, please. If we never come back, I can’t—”

_ “She’s right, Jack,” _ Chernobog singsonged. _ “If you _ never _ come back, I can _ never _ undo the damage done by—” _

“Oh, shut up,” Jack snarled. “By you? Is that what you were going to say? Might as well spit out one truthful thing a day, you could make it into a hobby.”

“And I don’t need you to help me argue with him,” I added. “You’re still a cheating asshole. I know you’re not going to help me. I’ll just find someone who will.”

The room remained silent as I shakily got to my feet, biting the inside of my cheek and struggling to ignore the sharp jabs of pain beside my heart.

_ My soul. _

_ He tried to take it. _

“It’s always the same with you,” Jack said disbelievingly. He drew in one slow breath. “When it’s not killing her, it’s using her. You try every chance you get, like you think it’ll be so easy to swindle her, like you think she belongs with—with _ your kind!” _

_ “My kind?” _ The question was plain and impartial, like he was simply waiting for Jack to stop talking.

“Yeah! Y’know, the embodiment of evil? Demons? Maybe some poor asshole in the same town would belong to you, but not Sawyer. If she died right now, you still wouldn’t get her. Because she’s a good person.”

Chernobog laughed. _ “And you think that matters?” _

“I do now! You know, someday you’ll get your comeuppance for manipulating all those people, _ owning _them, thinking maybe if I just get my body count up you’ll have all these brand-new slaves to do your bidding. You think everybody in the world is evil. You’re the reason I kept hiding my face after…”

He seemed to choke on his own words, but picked up quicker than I expected him to. His anger was carrying him over.

“You told me nobody would love me because of what I’d become. You—you said it was because of my face, the tar, my eyes. But people aren’t really that cruel.”

_ “And so you think if you revealed your true face to those… _ friends _ of hers, that they would not be frightened?” _

“They _ would _ be! Because they’d know me by that stupid name, ‘Eyeless,’ they’d know what I do to survive because of that dumb story. They’d be scared because I’m a _ murderer!” _

That word rang in a perpetual echo throughout the room, forcing all three of us to acknowledge its presence. There was a beat of silence before Jack’s hand found mine, grabbing on tight.

“And Sawyer’s never been scared of me,” he said in a dangerously soft voice. “You were wrong about my story. I told her everything, everything that you said would scare her away, and she didn’t even blink. She tried to help me. If she was ever scared, it’s because of the idea _ you _ planted in her head that I would hurt her someday. And I can promise you, boss, that’s not going to happen. Not now. Not anytime soon.”


	25. Duality

Jack’s thumb twitched over mine after a moment. From that tiny, involuntary movement, he seemed to realize something. Something horrible—a sharp jolt to his brain that instantly filled him with regret.

Something that suggested he wasn’t in control of his body anymore.

He lurched forward, my hand being pulled along with him, and made an odd noise like holding in vomit or being force-fed. He reached up and dug a hand of claws into my upper arm, latching on tight as he was dragged down by some unseen force.

“Wh-what are you— _ god! _ What are you doing?! What is…!”

He was struggling to keep his voice above an empty rasp, and it sounded like something was caught in his throat. Chernobog spoke over his continual gasps and questions.

_ “You must be released,”  _ he said, practically whispering.  _ “You, boy…you are not only of no use to us, but a burden. Protecting a human you’ve fallen in love with…” _

Each sentence seemed to weaken Jack further, as if another knife to the heart.

_ “Disobeying direct orders from your true father, your  _ owner _ …” _

He clung to my arm as Chernobog continued, wincing, his breathing choppy as if he was holding himself back from doing something horrible.

_ “Not bothering to improve yourself for our sake…your most recent combat supervisor, Edith, informed me of something quite interesting.”  _ I could hear the smugness in the demon’s voice, cold and sleazy like he had some ripe blackmail material at the ready.  _ “Up until the tenth round of your training, you were successful, if not by a slim margin. But as soon as you were defeated by the human, just once…you left.” _

Jack sounded like he was choking on nothing, desperately holding onto the last bits of his sanity. He let go of me—I heard a shuffle and knew he’d fallen to his knees. I reached out to comfort him, unsure of exactly what was happening, but he shoved me away.

_ “You gave up.” _

“Sawyer, you need to get away from me—”

Chernobog laughed.  _ “And now that you see what is happening, you realize what is best. You still only act for the sake of—” _

“Shut up, old man,” Jack hissed. His voice was getting worse by the minute, he sounded as if getting each word out was its own individual battle. He started coughing, gasping, hacking up something thick and awful onto the ground.

_ “There is a  _ ** _beast_ ** _ inside of you,  _ sonur minn, _ waiting to be released. Perhaps now is the time to let you run loose.” _

I almost tripped over myself running forward and was met with a cold, hard surface akin to glass. My increasing heartbeat and stream of panicked, irrational thoughts told me he was keeping Jack behind this wall.

“Stop it!” I curled my hands into fists and started punching, trying to break through. When I failed to do so, Chernobog seemed to realize how little of a threat I was, because the wall shattered audibly without me even touching it and I fell to my knees. Tiny shards dug into my skin through the fabric, and I barely noticed. I yelled into the air,

“He hasn’t done anything to you! You’ve used him,  _ abused _ him for the last five years of his life, just let him go!”

_ “Oh, that is exactly what I intend to do, young human.” _ I knew for a fact the bastard wanted to laugh again.  _ “Jack, dear, what is that curious word you call me by…? ‘Boss’?” _ He let out a chuckle. _ “If I were to sink so low as to use that sort of language, I might say that you’re being fired.” _

“Bull…shit,” Jack mustered between gags. I didn’t need him to keep talking; I knew exactly what he wanted to say.

_ You’re not firing me. You’re killing me. _

“Where are you?” I whispered frantically, sinking further to the ground and trying to feel out where he was crouched. He stifled another yell, as if to not give himself away. As if he knew something horrible would happen if I got too close. I couldn’t care less; I asked again.

“Where  _ are _ you—?!”

“Stay away from me! Please!”

Before I could protest, something was pressed to my face and clipped on around the back of my head. The stench of blood and sweat, the burn of his tar hit me like a brick wall. I fell back, my limbs shaking.

Chernobog had put Jack’s mask on me, and no matter how hard I pulled, I couldn’t get it off.

_ “Why do you struggle so, human? It’s only a mask. What harm could come of it?” _

“No. No, no, you bastard—!”

Jack was cut off from far away by a painful choking noise, and suddenly it all disappeared. Everything went silent; I could only hear a ringing in my ear, my own panicked heartbeat shaking my skull, my fingers digging into the ground for some sense of stability. After a moment, just when I was starting to think we’d been left alone, the demon spoke again.

_ “Look.” _

It was just that one word. And yet I got a horrible, queasy feeling at the way it had been said.

_ “This is a human. Do you recognize it?” _

He was clearly waiting for an answer, and though I didn’t hear anything, I was sure he’d gotten what he wanted. Anger started burning in my chest the second I realized he had called  _ me _ “it.” Already knowing he was a hypocrite didn’t soften the blow.

I heard distant scuffling, a high-pitched wheeze, frantic chittering almost like a scared animal. Chernobog started to coo:

_ “Look at the mask, my dear boy. Nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a human.” _ After a few more seconds, he seemed to be nudging Jack in a certain direction. He wasn’t getting the response he’d expected.  _ “The mask, Jack. Pay attention. It looks familiar, does it not?” _

I stood up on shaky legs, my breath hitching at every new sound and breeze that hit me. I tried one more time to take the mask off, to no avail; it was like it had been glued to my face.

_ “Who does it belong to, Jack? You only have to say one word for me. Who have you seen wearing that mask before?” _

Something close to a snarl reached my ears, and I stumbled back. Jack’s voice hadn’t gotten better, not in the slightest, but it didn’t shake this time.

“…her,” he said, disgust and fury threatening to make his voice tremble. I realized what was happening the moment that word left his lips—I knew exactly what his boss was doing, who he thought I was in that moment.

“Jack?” I couldn’t regain control over my voice no matter how hard I tried. It was on the verge of completely disappearing on me, giving out to a gravelly whisper. “It’s me. Please, just—”

_ “Kill.” _

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Jack launched himself at me, quiet as he could have possibly been, latching on and making desperate attempts to maul my face. I screamed and kicked him off, tears streaming down my cheeks and collecting at the bottom of the mask’s rim. It really was sealed on. I started to hyperventilate, falling back onto my elbows and trying to predict his next attack. My head was jerked back, and something slashed at my throat. Before he could cut too deep, I let my head fall back along with my body and grappled for his hands.

_ “Jack! _ Stop, i-it’s me, Jenny’s dead—!”

_ “Is she?” _ Chernobog mused as Jack wrestled himself out of my grip.  _ “I thought she had been standing right in front of him, seconds ago.” _

I was kicked to the ground, Jack remaining wordless as he sliced into my shoulder near the base of my neck. I let out the loudest shriek I could, praying somebody outside this realm—hell, this  _ room _ —would hear me. He slammed my other shoulder into the earth, and I knew he was winding up to strike again. I headbutted him in the chest, knocking him down and holding both of his arms in a cross over him.

“Jack!  _ Please!” _

_ “I’m afraid he can’t hear you in there. Stupid boy doesn’t hear much of anything when he’s consumed in his own anger.” _

Though my layers of fear, I was almost glad I couldn’t see his face right now. I wasn’t sure if I could have taken seeing him this furious, this bloodthirsty, and towards  _ me _ to boot. He broke out of my grip and threw me off with a strength I hadn’t seen in him before, and the slow shuffling noise nearby told me he was taking his sweet time getting up again. I started to sob, wincing in pain as the sting of my wounds started spreading to the rest of my body. It was as if his claws were coated in poison, or a crude mixture of salt and dirt that seeped into the cuts. I knew he was only acting this way because of the mask; nothing I could say or do would change his mind in this angry state, not as long as my face was blocked…

_ Oh, this will  _ so  _ get me killed. _

_ But fuck it. _

“Jack!” I stood up and waved my arms in the air. Something cracked in one of my shoulders in a way that worried me to no end, but I kept waving. Oddly enough, he wasn’t attacking now. Maybe he’d gotten tired out already; after all, Chernobog had worked him up pretty badly before. I heaved several deep breaths, preparing to stake my life on whether he would listen to me or not.

“Attack my face!” I yelled, pointing both hands at the mask. I still couldn’t tell where he was after that last attack. I felt a strange rush of panic, adrenaline, and pure hope as footsteps started approaching me from god-knows-where, and looked wildly around for some sort of indication as to which side he was coming from.

He barrelled into me from the front and dug his claws into the right eyehole of the mask, nearly chipping off a piece into my eye. I squeaked and covered my neck, hoping he would be distracted enough for the next couple of minutes to allow me a breather. He continued to slash and cut and even  _ bite _ at the thing, for Christ’s sake, until it was no longer a mask, but a piece of shredded blue plastic that had once been a cat’s plaything. Jack was quietly growling throughout his concentrated rampage, so much fury and vengeance building up in his voice that it sounded like he might start crying. Before he could actually claw into my face, I kicked him off and tore away the mask’s mutilated plastic, panting and on the verge of another bout of sobs.

“Jack, look—it’s just me. Jenny’s gone, she can’t hurt you. It’s  _ me _ .”

_ “Just what do you think you’re doing, human—” _

“Don’t listen to your boss. I-I’m not one of them, I would never hurt you, I’m your  _ anchor _ , remember? Jenny is dead—”

“No.”

Jack spoke quietly and with the full, traumatic weight of what had just happened. There was no noise after that for what seemed like forever.

When forever was over, he started shuffling toward me, and I instinctively took a step back. Conscious or not, he was still unpredictable. I couldn’t be sure if that was really him, or whether he’d snap again under Chernobog’s influence. I squeezed my eyes shut, not that it would make a difference, and waited for the next horrible thing to happen.

After minutes of silence, I felt a trembling hand on my face, and heard the  _ clack _ of his mask falling to the ground.

“…Sawyer?”

_ Yeah, he’s totally crying. _

“Oh, my god, you…no. What did I do? Why are you—what happened to your shoulder?” His voice was mellow now, still breaking but smoother than it had been before. It was as if all that fighting and growling under his breath cleared something out of him. Something coarse and evil and violent. I had the feeling he was too afraid to hug me, so I took that chance for him. He melted at my touch, holding me tightly but gingerly, burying his face but making sure I had room to breathe.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he choked out, weaving his fingers through my hair. “I-I didn’t mean—I thought you—”

“I know,” I said, trying not to add to his little cry-fest but having a pretty damn hard time doing so. Everything in me wanted to collapse on the spot, curl up into a ball and sleep on the floor for ages and ages. When I took the tiniest step forward, something shifted at my feet, and my eyes snapped open.

The mask had been destroyed.

“…Jack, I…I’m sorry, your mask—”

“I don’t give a shit about the mask, are you kidding me?” He let out a small gasp as he spoke, drawing in a shudder of a breath; the first one he’d taken since we started to hug. I shook my head and held him closer.

“I-I don’t know. I thought you…something about your face, I didn’t even realize until you said it. That’s really why you wear it? You think people will be afraid?”

“Not really,” he hastened to say. “I-it’s a lost cause, anyway, people are going to be scared of me no matter what—”

“I think you look beautiful.”

Of all the things I could have said, I chose the most shallow option. But it somehow felt right. Even though I couldn’t see him now, even though I was still blind, through the tar and missing eyes and him basically being a walking corpse…he was beautiful.

Chernobog didn’t like that too much.

_ “I shouldn’t have wasted my time trying to bring out a purpose in you again.” _

His voice boomed throughout the giant hall, causing both of us to flinch. Jack turned away from me and held onto one of my hands, for once…calm. Pitying, even. I could hear it in the way he said,

“Good thing I found one for myself, then.”

_ “You, boy, are utterly useless. You couldn’t even kill one last human, bring back one more soul to me before I rid myself of you for good.” _

“Then  _ do _ it,” he snapped. “I think I’ve caused enough damage for one lifetime.”

My eyes widened, and I reached out my other hand to grab his arm. “What are you doing?!” I hissed, trying to turn him back around. He wouldn’t budge. But he did say to me in a gleeful whisper,

“Just wait.”

Chernobog stayed quiet for some time. Awfully quiet. For a moment, I was afraid that he’d try yet another evil trick on us, or even kill Jack on the spot like he so clearly wanted to. I was afraid until Jack spoke again.

“What’s wrong? Do it.”

Nothing. He let out a small, expectant hum at the lack of a response.

“Now, if I’m doing the math right—I mean, I  _ was _ a computer science major—I’ve only got two parts to me. Demon and human. Or, according to you, the part that you can control…and the part that you can’t.” He clicked his tongue, and a shuffling noise told me he was rolling back and forth on his heels. “Wanna take a wild guess which one’s still standing here?”

There was an uncomfortably long silence. Jack didn’t seem to mind; on the contrary, I had a feeling some devilish grin was starting to cross his face.

“C’mon, boss. You only have to say one word for me.”

Another silence. After a moment, he muttered, “Music to my ears.” I didn’t let go of his arm.

“Oh, and I’m turning in my…” He seemed to pat himself down, then hummed thoughtfully. “Right. It’s just…not there anymore, I guess.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. He couldn’t have been talking about the mask; he already knew it was gone. Something else was missing now.

_ “Useless,” _ Chernobog repeated scathingly.  _ “That blade we gifted you—the demon essence, it’s been removed from your body! And you expect us to leave it in your possession for a single moment longer—” _

“God, okay, I get it. I was gonna give it to you anyway.” Jack gave me a pat on the shoulder as a signal to turn around. How on Earth he was planning to leave this place when Chernobog had sealed us in, I had no idea, but he didn’t seem too preoccupied with that.

“Well, later—”

_ “Not so fast.” _

_ Fucking great. _

The way he said that, through no uniqueness of its own, managed to send a chill down my spine. I didn’t know why; this was all over. He couldn’t keep us here, he couldn’t keep torturing us. Jack had gotten him to shut up for a minute straight because there wasn’t a thing he could do to him anymore! So why was I still on edge?

_ “You forget that your tie to me has been severed.” _

Jack grumbled something incoherent, as if to say,  _ this condescending shit again. _

But he stopped. He fell silent, and his hand slipped from mine. I turned again and grabbed desperately for something, anything to keep him still. He was starting to float backwards, lifeless in my grasp. I held on tightly as I could to his hand, but ended up getting pulled along with him.

_ “Since you must think of yourself as human, it would only be suitable for me to punish you as one…” _

“Stop it!” I yelled, wondering how many more times I’d have to say that. “Can’t you see how—how  _ immature _ you look right now?! It’s not that hard! Let us go—!”

_ “My apologies, human,” _ Chernobog said without an ounce of sincerity.  _ “Doing that would make you the first pair of insolent  _ brats _ I’ve ever let off the hook. And, well…” _

He laughed as Jack rose up further into the air, almost being ripped from my hold, the voice growing louder and louder in my head.

_ “…we can’t have that happening, now can we?” _

“Let go, Sawyer,” Jack muttered, like he was in a daze. “I can’t…”

Something usurped the sound from the room.

I say that like everything went quiet; that isn’t what happened. Something  _ absorbed _ the sound, whisked it from the room in one stroke like a tablecloth in a magic trick. All I could hear was the sound of my own racing heartbeat, my breath, hell, I could even hear the blood flowing through my veins. I dug my nails into Jack’s hand, my teeth gritted, unwilling now more than ever to let go.

Someone else spoke. A softer voice. Loud, but soft. It echoed in my mind the same way Chernobog’s did, but for whatever reason, I felt safer with this one.

_ “Leave the boy alone.” _

Then the previous noise exploded back into my ears.

I held back a gasp and pulled on Jack’s hand, in one final attempt to release him from his boss’s grip. I managed to reel in about half of his arm.

_ “No, no, no—keep to your side!” _ Chernobog hissed at no one.  _ “This doesn’t involve you—” _

** _“Let go of my child, _ ** **brother.”**

The voice blared menacingly throughout the room. I felt like I’d been struck with a mellow bolt of thunder; something about that sentence shook me.

“Brother?” I blurted, still clinging to Jack’s arm.

“Child?” Jack breathed.

_ “I should go so far as to say, this does not involve  _ you. _ You will leave these two be and stop claiming that which is not yours.” _

_ “He is mine,” _ Chernobog said, with the closest thing to bared teeth a thing like him could have.

This other being, his “brother,” let out a sound—a wail, a screech, somewhere in between—that pierced the air and my eardrums. I made the mistake of covering my ears and let Jack’s hand go again. I gasped and ran forward, only to collide with him from behind. He had been standing on firm ground for some time now. And he didn’t budge.

_ “All be damned, will you stop that screaming—?!” _

** _“Leave.”_ **

The awful, earsplitting sound came to a halt just so the other being could utter that one word in a fantastic boom. I heard glass shatter to our left, walls crumbling everywhere else and the very ground swaying below our feet.

Without a single piece of proof, I knew boss had left.

“Jack,” I said without thinking, once everything had settled down and I regained my balance. “Jack, are you—”

“I’m fine. What the hell just happened.” His words were monotonous and hushed, like he still hadn’t processed any of this yet. I blinked and swallowed; it seemed we were in the same boat there. I reached out one hand awkwardly and placed it on his shoulder after a brief moment of search.

Whoever had driven out Chernobog spoke, and we both jumped in our spots.

_ “I— _ we _ apologize for the commotion, you two. The demon is gone. Allow us to—” _

“You called him your brother.” The words slipped out as I pointed a shaky finger ahead, though I wasn’t quite sure where the voice was coming from. Jack’s mind was on another track.

“You said I was your child,” he said breathily.

“What are you?” I asked, beyond caring if they were offended by such a question. The thing, whatever it was, sighed with about fifty different voices.

_ Oh, god. There’s more of them, too. _

_ “There is no need to fear. We will not hurt you,” _ they said, if not a bit unconvincingly.  _ Who in history has  _ ever  _ calmed down when told to not be afraid? _

“But what  _ are _ you?” I felt I was owed an answer of some sort. I was done blindly following every demon, creature,  _ whatever _ that crossed my path.

To my surprise, they didn’t seem annoyed or offended.

_ “Try to understand; there is no human word for us. Some call our kind angels. Spirits. Those are the more recognizable names. _

_ “But you may call us Belobog.” _


	26. We Meet the In-Laws

“Where’ve you been,” Jack demanded without a second to waste. “Why didn’t you—why did you just let all that happen, how did you—”

“Brother,” I repeated under my breath. “Oh, that…okay. That makes sense. God, Darla would know more about this…” I winced and rubbed my forehead. Just lifting my arm took too much out of me; I remembered with haste that I’d almost gotten my soul stolen today. The circle on my chest still stung, though the pain was beginning to ebb away. Jack’s hand found mine and we intertwined our fingers by second nature.

I lifted my head to at least grant some respect to this Belobog, whatever kind of intentions they had.

“The entrance is still blocked, isn’t it?”

_ “If you are referring to the mess behind you, then yes.” _

“Can you let us out?”

_ “Certainly.” _

There were a few tumbling noises and metallic screeching behind me—the same sort of sound I’d heard when my shield spell came undone. They weren’t just clearing a path through more destruction; they were reversing whatever twisted thing Chernobog had done to the surrounding walls to seal us in…

_ Chernobog. _ Dark god. A couple questions during the Halloween party with Darla had revealed his name’s true meaning.

Was I talking to the light god?

“Answer me,” Jack said desperately. He sounded more confused than angry, grappling for any kind of truth he could hold onto. “Y-you said I was your child, you said something about…_why? _ That can’t be it. That can’t be true, that would mean that he was just—”

_ “Lying.” _

Belobog sounded somber. Ashamed, even. Ashamed of their bitter, out-of-control other half. I could feel Jack’s disappointment, his boiling resentment and hatred towards his boss from where he stood. I wanted to reach out and comfort him, but something was stopping me.

_ “The demon was able to claim you before we could. After you died, you, Jack Gordon, were to join us; the more merciful lot, you could say.” _

They said it so plainly that it didn’t come off as smug or prideful. It was simply a fact to them. I wasn’t about to argue, but I had a feeling Jack was.

“But how could he—_why?! _ I’m not some amazing soldier, or an angel, or a prophet, or whatever dumb shit he believed. I-I’m not special. I _ died. _ That was it. I’m just me. You…you can’t be serious…” He gulped audibly, like he was about to be sick. Belobog remained patient; I realized with a heavy heart that I’d never witnessed this before. A being like them, _ patient _ with Jack.

_ “You died as an unrightful sacrifice to a dark god.” _

“I—well, yeah! What about that makes—”

_ “Jennifer Smith was mistaken in choosing you. As a follower of Chernobog, her soul is likely being either tortured or cast into nothingness as we speak. You, however, were never affiliated with such evil. Our brother had no just claim to you; you belonged someplace better than… _this,” Belobog said, trying unreasonably hard not to sound disgusted with their surroundings.

_ So that’s it. It’s either Heaven or Hell when you die, light or dark. _ Something sank in my stomach, and though it was a stupid question, I could help but think of it. _ Where am _ I _ going to end up? _

“Why didn’t you do anything?” Jack asked, his voice trembling slightly.

_ “You greatly overestimate our power compared to that demon’s, Jack. There was nothing that _ could _ be done. And there was no use dwelling in affairs that had already come to pass—though, we admit, we became selfish at times.” _ A small trace of playfulness crept into their tone. _ “We meddled when we could afford to. Making sure you were never led too far into the darkness, healing you as best we could when they had not such a…severe hold on you.” _

We both seemed to understand around the same time; Jack’s hand fell from mine, wandering to what I assumed was a spot on his chest. The spot where his hoodie had been roughly torn in half, that nerve-wracking night when I first met his boss.

“You…you reversed his damage. The wound, whatever happened to me that night he found Sawyer, I-I thought I was going to die for good.”

_ “And so you were. But they were weakened, if only temporarily. You are our child. Their magic, thanks to the…shortcomings of humankind, is far stronger than ours. That—what do you call it, ‘holy water’?” _Belobog sounded amused.

“I’m pretty sure it was just regular water, if I’m being honest,” I muttered.

_ “It froze them. There was not enough by far to do any real damage, but you managed to block their power. Jack was healed quickly; the demon’s magic no longer infected his wound.” _

They paused, as if considering laying one more hard truth on him.

_ “Had you truly belonged to Chernobog, you would have died after the rampage they sent you on. The one that cleared you of their controlling essence. They needed a means by which to keep you tied.” _

“Bastard,” Jack hissed at the ground. I shook my head and placed my hand on his shoulder again.

“Hey. He’s gone. He can’t—”

_ “Sawyer.” _

I flinched at that, unsure why it struck me as it did. Belobog hesitated.

_ “That is your name, is it not?” _

I rubbed one part of my face that had gone slightly numb from laying on the ground. “I-I…yeah. It is. Sorry, I’m just not used to ghosts—angels, whatever you are—uh. Not really used to being called that, so…”

Swallowing my pride, I glanced around the room, still trying to find the source of their voice. That seemed to tip them off.

_ “Oh…they took your sight, human, didn’t they?” _

My shoulders tensed and I quickly bowed my head, looking down at nothing. “Well, yeah. What’s it to you?”

_ “We can’t have that happen again. Face us.” _

Based on everything I’d picked up on about them so far, there wasn’t a direction I _ could _look in that wasn’t technically facing them. But I lifted my head again and turned to where I figured they meant.

My vision turned pure white. I staggered back.

“What are you—?!”

“Sawyer…?” Jack’s voice was far away, drowned out by whatever was taking root in my head right now. I felt like my eyes were going to burn up and fall to the floor in ash. I couldn’t make the light go away by closing them, in fact, that almost made it worse. _ Are they trying to make me go even more blind?! _

After whole minutes of waiting in pain, the whiteness subsided, and I blinked a few times to see that everything was still black. Tears started building up behind my eyes. I was just about to lose it.

“And what was _ that _for, if I may ask?” I said, my voice shaking with frustration. “I still can’t see! I thought you were going to either fix me or kill me, and I get nothi—”

_ “Impatient human, let us _ tell _ you what that did. Jack, will you kindly look at your friend’s face and tell her what you see?” _

After a couple seconds, he touched my shoulder and sighed with disappointment. “No, not…there’s got to be more you can do than _ this, _it’s basically—”

_ “A demon’s magic has more hold over a human’s soul and body than anything we could ever do. She has been granted new means of sight; however different they are from the average human, she has them.” _

“But I’ve seen this before! This doesn’t _ do _anything, it’s just some weird mark near the eye, maybe once in a while she’ll see the outline of something—”

“Can somebody tell me what’s going on, please?” I muttered, folding my arms and relishing every second of my new “sight.” Jack tried speaking again, but was interrupted.

_ “You will be able to see again, Sawyer. You, unlike the many others Jack has met with a second means of sight, will know how to operate it. ‘Activate’ it, so to speak. Close your eyes.” _

Annoyed as I was, I did what Belobog said.

_ “Repeat the phrase in your mind: ‘diffe hoc aspectu.’ Until your friend begins to notice something, you must keep thinking it.” _

_ What kind of witchy bullshit am I hearing right now? _

_ “That is not the phrase we told you to repeat.” _

“Fine, fine, I’m doing it. Uh, what was it again?”

_ “Diffe hoc aspectu. Do not break it until he says so.” _

“Roger.” I took a deep breath and thought. Holy shit, did I think that weird, Latin phrase into oblivion. It took a lot longer than I expected for Jack to pipe up, his voice more nervous than I remembered ever hearing it.

_ Diffe hoc aspectu. _

_ Diffe hoc aspectu. _

_ Diffe hoc aspe— _

“Um. Hate to interrupt this, but your eyelids are kind of glowing…?”

I almost broke my silent chant of sorts and said, “what?” But I wasn’t sure if they wanted me to stop now. Either way, I wasn’t opening my eyes until I _ knew _ this was done.

_ Diffe hoc aspectu. _

_ Diffe hoc aspectu. _

_ Diffe hoc aspectu. _

_ “You may stop thinking, human, the process is complete.” _

“Good. Now, is there going to be a real change this time, or…_Jesus Christ, _ what—?!”

As I opened my eyes, another blinding light hit me and I nearly fell backwards this time. I felt Jack’s hands on my back, prepared to catch me, as I blinked and squinted in a more patient attempt to see. The whiteness wasn’t as painful now, moreso an inconvenience. Everything started flickering with gray light. I saw flashes of color in the darkness, sporadic and unpredictable, almost like my eyes were attacking me. As I looked frantically around, wondering what had gone wrong _ now, _I caught the outline of something’s face. My vision was a single vertical stream of light, scanning the area for anything of importance.

Then the world melted back into place. Gray nothingness over a blank canvas, covered in sharp, jutting pieces of drywall and the broken glass wall and what looked like a cluster of ghosts and I could see Jack’s face—

I could _ see. _

_ “If there is a problem in the future, for instance, if your vision starts flickering—” _

“Oh my god,” I breathed, looking down at my hands. Just the fact that I could do that, look at my hands and actually see them, was enough to send my heart racing. It took me a good minute to even realize there was no color to anything in the room; not the walls, the pale monstrosity that was Belobog, not even myself. Still, I let out a quiet breath of a laugh. Then another, and another, and they kept going until they got so loud I was sure I sounded crazy. But I couldn’t stop laughing—I was probably crying, too, at that point. I could see again.

Before I got the chance to look up at Jack, he’d crushed me in a hug and started planting kisses in the area between my neck and shoulder, letting out one shuddering breath at a time. I laughed once more, for real this time, tears welling up in my eyes.

“Okay, real rude of you to hug me when I can actually see your face for once.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, his face pressed into me, sounding like he hadn’t quite processed those words yet. “But—I-I mean, you can see again. Right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s…amazing.” He gripped me just a little bit tighter, and I heard the sliver of pain in his voice more than anything else. I realized why, but before I could say anything—and really, what could I have said?—he let go, held me at arm’s length by the shoulders and furrowed his eyebrows, a shy smile edging forward in the corners of his mouth.

“…you look _ cool_.”

I furrowed my brow right back at him. “What do you mean? Do I have, like, crazy dark circles under my eyes, or…?”

“Just—hold on.”

After a quick scan of the floor, he picked up a piece of shattered glass and held it to my face. At first, I didn’t notice anything particularly different. It was just me. But then something started glowing, right around my eyes, and I saw what appeared to be a layer of white film covering my pupils. The corners of my eyes were surrounded by two paint-like streaks that were growing brighter by the second, and I let out a soft chuckle.

“How about that. I look like…an alien. No, a rock star—no!” I grabbed the shard of glass and tried taking a closer look. “An _ alien rock star._”

_ “You will see this way for the rest of your life, if you choose to at all. The color that you are used to seeing is concentrated into exceptionally strong auras; ones that only appear in a powerful being, or in those who experience particularly strong emotion. Most humans are not significant enough to harbor a permanent aura.” _

“So, like how Jack’s glowing blue right now.”

He froze in place, eyebrows disappearing into his hair as he processed that. The words really just fell out of me, but as soon as I heard them, I realized it was true; Jack had a soft, comforting glow about him, the color of the sky and the ocean when there’s white, pearly sand underneath…no sooner than I’d started thinking of all those cheesy things you associate with the color blue, he immediately shifted to a fiery magenta, running a hand through his hair like he’d been caught in a fib.

“Oh. This is bad.”

I laughed again. “What? It looks nice.”

“I-I mean, it’s more of the fact that I probably can’t lie to you anymore…?”

_ “Particularly strong emotion,” _ repeated Belobog, almost like a broken record. They turned their head—really, all 100 of them—to face me, and extended a knife of a fingertip to trace the marks around my eyes. _ “This may not be as permanent as you’d like, human. Wait a century or so, and the spell will have worn thin—” _

“Oh, that’s more than enough, don’t worry.”

_ “—but in the case that it fails you before then…if your vision flickers, as we mentioned, or if you find you can only see a faint outline in darkness, simply repeat the phrase we taught you in your head. As many times as it takes for your new means of sight to work again.” _

“So…it’s renewable?” I hesitated, suddenly aware and conscious of how stupid I might sound to these spirits. One of them tilted its head, while another few blinked without any discernible emotion; it was like watching a hologram of an alien council, or the ghostly rendition of a couple hundred people who had their faces grotesquely stretched out.

_ “Is that the word humans use? How curious.” _

Jack’s aura turned orange—no, a light pink now—as he looked at Belobog, an awkward sense of fondness softening the edges of his face. He stole one more glance at me, almost as if asking permission to do something. I quirked one eyebrow. _ Whatever it is, go the hell for it. _

That seemed to be the answer he was looking for.

“I…uh, I guess this would be the time to catch up, huh?” he said, turning back to the cluster of spirits before us. He was tapping his foot nervously on the floor, fingers picking at the hems of his sweater sleeves.

“I mean, if you can even be that normal. Totally not judging, by the way,” he added hastily with his hands raised.

_ “Catch up,” _ Belobog echoed, like the phrase was foreign to them. They said it with such a detached sense of wonder, I couldn’t be sure if they’d even considered it before—sticking around just to stick around. Making sure he was okay. Acting like he really was their “child,” whatever that meant at this point. A sweeping sigh rippled throughout the room, and I had a feeling they would have been smiling condescendingly at him if capable.

_ “What is that lovely phrase…British, I believe,” _ one of them mused. They said collectively,

_ “Would that we could, Jack. But it is not possible. There are more important matters to attend to, more of our brother’s plans to halt. This is goodbye.” _

“I—but what about—?”

_ “We hope you understand.” _

“Hold on, I still—”

_ “Goodbye.” _

Not even an “until next time,” but _ goodbye. _ Finality.

That didn’t seem to hit Jack too well.

“Wait!”

To my surprise, they listened. They waited. Jack’s breathing was uneven, heavy and slow. The whole room seemed to hold its breath. He sure was taking his sweet time, looking at Belobog.

“I don’t get it,” he finally said.

The spirits didn’t seem to have a response to that. The longer they stayed silent, the more desperate he became.

“I don’t get it! Tell me why you’re just going to…leave me here. You’re supposed to care.”

_ “We are—” _

“You’re supposed to _ care!” _ He tried to move forward, but it was almost like some invisible force was holding him back. He frantically punched the air and his fist stopped cold, hitting a flat surface I couldn’t see. His aura was starting to turn a bloody red.

“No. No, no, stop, you can’t leave! Why did you bother finding me if you just wanted to leave me all alone—”

_ “Of all things, we thought you’d be grateful. You have your freedom now. You can go wherever you please, do anything that comes to your mind—” _

“At least those demons were _ pretending _to help me. They pretended to care, pretended to be my…” He choked on his words, swallowing them down and looking up at the fading spirits with fury.

“Okay. Fine. Just go on, leave like everything else—”

_ “You are acting like a child. You—you are _ selfish, _ ” _ they said, as if coming to a horrible realization. As if realizing that Jack was only human, and that humans could want things sometimes. Did they think that _ he _ was coming to represent all the “shortcomings of humankind,” or whatever it was they said? _ So much for patience. _

Belobog’s aura turned a dark, faded red like dried blood, and a strong sense of annoyance started building up in my chest.

“Oh, don’t say that like you’re so high and mighty! Did you even try talking to him, just _ once _ while he was under Chernobog’s control? You practically abandoned him—!”

_ “Shut your mouth, human, and speak not of our affairs as if you knew the first thing about them.” _ I’d clearly struck a nerve with these spirits. _ “It was beyond our power to contact Jack while the demon—” _

“Well, the demon isn’t here anymore, is he? At least…help him get back on his feet, for fuck’s sake! He’s been tortured and abused for years now, you can’t just leave him here!”

_ “Help him get back on his feet?” _ Belobog sounded beyond insulted. _ “We were under the impression that _ you _ would take that job, human. You call yourself his anchor, his ‘girlfriend,’ why should—” _

“I never signed up to be his _ parent,_” I said in a low growl. _ You heard all of that, the “anchor” part, while we were being torn apart and tossed around and you did nothing?! _ “That was all you. You act like you can just swoop in, clear a couple of things up, then leave like your job’s all done. It’s not.” I stepped forward, past the invisible wall Jack had been fighting against.

“You’re all-powerful, right? You can split up, your pieces can think for themselves, just like Chernobog—”

_ “Do not compare us to—” _

“So find a way to help him. Unless you’re just as—”

“Just as _ useless _ as my boss!” Jack spat, that one word seeming to tear him apart from the inside out. This was what he’d been taught to fear, all these years since he’d been under the demon’s wing—to be alone. Unloved. Useless. He had me, and he knew that; but this wasn’t about our kind of love.

** _“Enough.”_ **

I winced and covered my ears. The sound seemed to blast a hole through my skull now that I’d stepped closer to Belobog. Their voice was shaking with fury; I guessed they’d never been criticized this badly by one and a half humans before.

_ “This is ridiculous. This is beyond the sort of insolence we bargained for—” _

There was that word again. Insolence. Like we were such horrible, spoiled people for wanting more than the bare minimum of help.

_ “You are past saving, Jack. You have been damaged, damaged far too badly for us to help you now.” _ They sounded more disgusted than pitying.

“Jesus Christ, is it really that hard to take care of him, for real?!” I threw a glare upward to them, my already-loosened filter disappearing completely. “Were you even telling us the truth? Did you—were you just hanging back on purpose?! Just so you wouldn’t have to deal with—”

_ “You, human, understand nothing of our kind. Your ignorance will be forgiven; we are the merciful ones, after all.” _

_ You really expect me to believe—?! _

_ “As for you,” _ they said in an annoyed drawl, about fifty of their ghostly heads swiveling towards Jack. _ “We have been more than fair. You haven’t so much as given us thanks for healing your friend—” _

“That’s what we came here for, dipshit,” he snarled, his hands twitching and his knuckles bruised. “We’re not going to _ thank _ you for—”

“Okay, calm down,” I said in a frantic mutter. I stepped back and reached for his arm. Belobog’s aura was growing darker and more intense by the second, regressing every now and then like a slow heartbeat. “You’re just making them madder—”

_ “No need for that, human. If he must learn…he must learn,” _ they said in an irritatingly matter-of-fact tone. My eyes widened in dread.

“Wait, what are you—”

_ “Ow!” _ Jack sank to the ground for about the fifth time that day. He heaved and coughed and spat up something, the same way he did when Chernobog was unleashed his demonic side. The shattered glass on the ground started to shake, piece by piece, until the air was filled with a light rattling sound that contrasted starkly with all of Jack’s wheezes and pained groans.

_ “We wouldn’t suggest staying here much longer, Sawyer.” _

I whipped back around to face the petty, thousand-headed prick.

_ “We’ve had plenty of our brother’s antics for these past hundred years. It is about time this rat trap of theirs was…cleaned out, one might say.” _

“No, wait—!”

Belobog vanished, leaving me alone with a choking Jack on his hands and knees.

“Agh…_shit!” _ He cursed under his breath, a few small whines forcing themselves out from the back of his throat. “Oh, they really got me, didn’t—Jesus Christ! Is that…?”

I fell to a kneel by his side and propped him up, a warm, thin liquid coating my hand when I touched his chest. I brought it back out from under him, darkness flooding the cracks in my palm.

“Blood,” I breathed. _ No tar this time? No smoke?! _

Jack clenched his teeth, trying to at least stumble forward but unable to make it a few feet. “Real…_human _ blood? B-but that means that I’m alive again, that they’re trying to…”

His face went blank for a second before he let out a loud, hoarse, mirthless laugh and held himself up on a shaky elbow.

“Oh, you sick son of a bitch! Some ‘angels’ you are, huh? You’re not supposed to swing this low, that’s my boss’s job!”

I started to hyperventilate, grabbing his shoulders and laying him down on his back. _ They want to kill him. Kill him for real. _

“Okay. Okay, okay, let’s just—let’s just see what’s wrong,” I whispered, trying desperately to shift into my “I’m healing someone and it’s going to be okay” mode. This should have been second nature to me, but looking at him now with that pained expression on his face did wonders to throw me off. Jack shook his head.

“C’mon. Don’t kid yourself with that.” He scoffed, energy seeming to drain by the second along with the blood pouring out of his body. “Merciful, my ass. These angels want me dead. Not sure why they’d go the ‘thousand cuts’ route, but…”

“Jack, please, stay with me, I-I can get help. I’ve been training for this, I—”

He cut me off and placed a shaky hand on mine. “Stop. You’ve—you’ve done a lot, really, I think maybe it’s time you rested a little. It’s been…amazing, honestly, with you. But it’s over.”

I felt a bubble growing in the space between my throat and chest, and frantically shook my head. “No, no, no, don’t say something like that. I-It's just some wounds, I can fix this! I did it before, I can do it again.”

“No, you can’t.” He smiled weakly. “Trust me, Sawyer. Even if you were the greatest healer in the world, you can’t save everyone.”

“I can try. I _ have _to try.”

“The…” He took a shudder of a breath before coughing up what looked like white ash. “…the great S-Sawyer Rafael has a heart, now, does she?”

“Stop it. Please. This isn’t a joke, you could really be—!”

“I am. It’s going to be okay.” He tightened his grip on my hand. “Hey—we got what we came here for, anyway.”

Now I was really starting to cry. Words turned to mush in my mouth, and all I could say was, “But you’re my best friend.” I wanted to move, kiss him, do _ something, _but it wouldn’t happen.

“I love you,” I whispered. Even then, my voice couldn’t keep itself steady. _ Goddammit, I didn’t get my eyesight back to trade _ you _ in! _

Jack narrowed his eyelids.

“…you can go. Save yourself. You can start living without me.” He said it like he was double-checking something. I shook my head again. I felt like I would never stop, as long as I kept seeing this.

“I’m not going to do that.”

His mouth formed a thin line, and he tried propping himself up on his elbows.

“In that case, have this.”

And he hugged me as tight as possible, shamelessly as a person like him could. I could feel the intent in his arms, his chest, how he buried his face in the crook between my neck and shoulder.

_ A goodbye hug. _

I squeezed my eyes shut and hugged him back, trying to breathe in his scent until I’d be able to live in it the rest of my life.

_ No. Don’t you dare fucking think like that. This isn’t goodbye. This _ can’t _ be goodbye. _

As we broke apart, my brain’s gears started turning with a vengeance.

“I’m getting you back to the edge of the forest. There, at least.”

“I won’t make it. You know that. It’s okay, I’m—”

“No. I’ll make sure you can stay alive. I know what to do.”

Without giving him a chance to answer, I hoisted him up by the torso, wrapping his arms around my shoulders from behind and half-carrying him to where I was certain Nyx would be.


	27. Somebody Comes In Handy, For Once

He lost consciousness soon after that.

I got plenty of curious, rude, and plain _ murderous _stares as I made my way to Nyx’s “office,” not bothering to stop. I blocked out everything in my peripheral vision, my gaze becoming laser-focused until a small creature passed by and tugged on the hem of my pant leg. I broke out of my tunnel vision and looked down.

It was some childlike demon with huge eyes that blinked vertically and charmingly huge overalls. I was certain it was the same one I’d seen the first time I came to this place, the one whose mother gave Jack a few strong words before he decided to start a brawl with her. They stared at me, all innocent, until I came to a stop to find the nicest possible way to tell them to fuck off. Before I could say a word, though, their gaze flickered to the body I had in tow.

“Where’s Jack going?”

I blinked in surprise. “You know his name?” My voice was astonishingly hoarse, and I could feel dry tears holding my skin in place like set clay. The kid didn’t answer. I sighed and started to walk again.

“I’m taking him to a healer’s office. She’ll fix him up, and you can say hi to him later, or whatever.”

“What happened to him?” They kept pace with me, never breaking their stare. I clenched my teeth and kept dragging him along.

“Things got a little out of hand.” Despite everything, I shot them an irritated glance before looking forward again. “Shouldn’t you be with your mother right now? I bet she’s looking for you.”

“I don’t have a mother. _ You’re _a human,” they remarked, nothing teasing or malicious in their voice. It was just a factual statement. “Can I come with you? My name’s Lucy.”

I swallowed down the urge to start crying again and shook my head, preparing to give them a firm _ no. _But something stopped me—I began to process what they’d really just said.

“…you don’t have a mother?” I halted, Jack’s body leaning into me from behind. I flinched at the sudden contact; it felt too much like a hug. “But I thought you were with some woman before. You…you called her ‘Ma’.”

“Yep,” Lucy chirped. “She’s not my real Ma. I get nannies and fake moms…something called an ‘oh-pear,’ for humans?” They tilted their head curiously. I nodded, my heart filling up with inconvenient sympathy.

_ “Au pair. _ So you really don’t have one?”

“No. I’m fine on my own, though. Can I come with you?” they repeated, standing on their tiptoes to get a look at Jack’s face over my shoulder. I gazed at them, then at the path ahead of me, then at our surroundings. There were no other demons around, just us, a series of walls, hallways, doors, and the muted darkness of the realm’s sky. I blinked back tears and sighed again.

“I’m sorry, you can’t. Maybe you can drop by when it’s all done…do you know the healer, Nyx?”

Lucy nodded, still chipper and oblivious.

“Wait about an hour, Lucy, then stop by her door if you want. I don’t know if she’ll let you in, but…” I cleared my throat and rearranged my grip on Jack, hoisting him up further onto my shoulders, maybe in some weird attempt to make him seem more alive. “…he’s going to be okay. Okay?” I mustered a reassuring smile, though I wasn’t exactly sure how much they needed it. They nodded again, not seeming the least bit upset that they couldn’t tag along.

“I know he is. He’s Jack. If he isn’t okay, who’s gonna tell my Ma to shut up when she yells at me in the street?”

I furrowed my eyebrows and gave Lucy a tiny nod of my own. “Yeah. That’s, uh…that’s a good point.” _ I’d be happy to do the honors if he doesn’t make it. Which is not going to happen. Because he _ will _ make it. _

As the kid skipped away, ever so unaware, I kept dragging Jack by the arms to Nyx’s door and knocked as quickly and loudly as I could. My hands were still shaking, and covered in dried blood. The door handle twitched once before I heard a sigh from inside the room.

“I told you, I’ve nearly finished it, I just need a couple more days—”

“It’s me. I need you to let me in, now.” My voice broke slightly, but I couldn’t get preoccupied with something like that. Nyx paused.

“…Sawyer? Are you—”

_“Now.”_

“Okay, okay!”

She unlatched something from the other side and opened the door, freezing when she spotted Jack in tow. “What’s _ he _doing here?”

“Let us in. Please. I don’t know what’s going to happen or how much time he has left—”

“Are you asking me to heal him?! Sawyer, you know that we…” She trailed off at the look on my face, though I couldn’t tell exactly which one I was making. It seemed to shut her up, anyway.

“Nyx. My friend is _ dying. _Your sister made him like this, she ruined his life. So get over this whole rivalry thing, get over yourself and help us.”

After a moment, she puffed up her cheeks and nodded, stooping down to help me carry Jack inside. She dropped him somewhat carelessly on the floor once the door had closed behind us, but I didn’t have the energy to point it out. I laid his upper half down as gently as I could and sat next to him, resisting the urge to cradle his face again.

Nyx knelt down beside me and frowned at his still form. “What happened with you two, anyway? I thought everything was going fine—”

“It wasn’t about us. It was your boss and…”

I cut myself off and shook my head. “N-no. Nevermind. It doesn’t matter, just find a way to fix this. Please.”

Nyx seemed to sense the poorly disguised desperation in my voice, because she looked at me with sympathy before patting my arm. “Alright.” She turned back to Jack with a quirked brow and traced two fingers over the corner of his mouth.

“What is that around his…?”

She took one glance at the white ash she’d collected and her face went white as a sheet.

“Sawyer,” she said weakly, “did you see this ash coming from his mouth before?”

“He coughed it up when…when it happened.” I attempted to answer as vaguely as possible. It proved pointless.

“This came from something powerful. Maybe the Highest himself. O-or even—no, that’s ridiculous. They don’t exist,” she muttered to herself. She shut her eyes, drummed her fingertips on her knees and stood up. “This needs to be stopped as soon as possible.”

She walked over to a drawer above her levitating desk and opened it, producing the bowl of sand she’d used to practice with me. A warm sense of familiarity flickered in my chest. Maybe this wouldn’t be as complicated as I thought. All we needed was the sand and our hands, right?

She set the bowl down and sprinkled some on the floor in a circle near Jack’s body. Blood had begun to flow steadily from him and onto the ground, staining the circle red. As Nyx prepared the spell, I leaned over to place one of my hands inside.

“Here, let me help.”

She pursed her lips and gently pushed me away from the circle. “I’m…not sure if you can. This will require more than what I’ve taught you so far.”

My breathing turned quick and heavy. I tried scooping more sand out of the bowl, but was blocked by her hand. “Come on, there’s got to be something I can—”

“I’m sorry, Sawyer, it’s just not that simple this time!”

“Why not?! It’s not the same as mending a broken pencil, but it can’t be _ that _ different—why do you need anything more than your sand?”

Nyx spared me one fleeting sideways glance before saying, “Well, this is one of those more serious cases we talked about, right? This isn’t just a wound, he’s practically being torn apart from the inside. I need to make an appeal to a higher power. Luckily…”

She rubbed her hands together and laid them inside the binding circle, an unusual air of confidence about her.

“We have one right here.”

My stomach churned as I realized what she meant. She started loudly:

“O, Great Chernobog—”

I grabbed her hands and ripped them from the ground. “No. Not him. Those demons, their tie to Jack is broken, they’ve basically disowned him—”

“They _ what?!” _ Nyx’s eyes grew owlish and she shifted back as if he had a contagious disease. “Then who do I make the prayer to? I-I need to draw my power from _ something, _ I’m only human, I’m useless on my own!”

“Tell me about it later, just figure something out! Is there anything in the demon realm that can help us? Anything that isn’t connected to…” I waved my hand vaguely in the air. “That?”

Nyx took a few breaths. “Okay. Okay, alright, we can still work with this. Uh—” While my gaze was focused on Jack, she placed her hands back on the ground and gulped.

“…I call upon any willing demon. Whoever you are, be you merciful enough to grant your own power…” She drew in a shaky breath. “Great, nameless demon of our realm, I draw from you.”

We waited. And waited. Longer than we could afford to, but seeing as we had no other choice, we waited, until one of the farther walls of the office began to crack—at least, that’s what it sounded like.

My gaze snapped to the source of the sound, a dim line of light made from the corner of the room farthest from us. It creased like a sheet of paper and eventually opened, an infinite and ominous darkness inside. My mind jumped to the obvious, the juvenile; a portal to hell. But we were already here.

Something started to crawl out.

The word _ crawl _ does this demon’s action injustice. It was definitely a crawl, but also something more graceful. More smooth and instinctive, like it had crawled its whole life and happened to be the best at just that, excuse you. I leaned back by reflex as it extended itself to full height, the hellish door closing behind them as if it had never been open in the first place.

The demon was a good foot taller than me and dark gray, with glowing cracks rampant through its body like lava seeping through stone. It had two ridged goat’s horns protruding from the sides of its head, and a single eye socket which was empty save for a ring of light serving as the iris. It looked around the room with a blank expression, though based on the way it drew one of its arms in as it grazed a wall, I could sense its disgust with this place.

“Somebody called,” it said in a voice dripping with irritation. It lifted its head to fix its gaze on me, curious. “You.”

“Uh, yeah. Me. Sorry, do I know you? We’re kind of trying to heal someone here—”

All of a sudden and without warning, its face split open, like…

_ A blooming flower. _

My eyes widened in animosity while Vickson simply reverted back to their true form, tilting their head, a morose expression overcoming them.

“Oh. It is him.”

“You mean Jack…?” I asked, my voice shaking slightly as they pushed past me and Nyx to get a good look at him.

“He will not live long if nothing is done. His connection is severed. But…not just to the Highest.” They narrowed their eye and turned to me with a claw-like finger raised. “I wouldn’t otherwise do this, _ handcuff girl, _ so be thankful.”

“Thankful that you’re being decent for once?!”

“Do not talk to me about decency, human. I am a demon. This doesn’t involve you.”

“I think it—”

Nyx grabbed my shoulder and pulled me further back from them. “Sawyer. Just stop. Vick’s right, we need to get out of the way.”

Vickson blinked at her with what I could only assume was some sort of reverence. “Good. The healer is talking some sense into her.” They looked back to Jack and carefully traced portions of his face, as if trying to etch his image into their mind. “Jack is very unique. He is the only of his kind, a specimen. Even the Highest have not been able to categorize him. So they draw him in close and hope he never leaves their sight. He might as well have become their child, either way.”

My eyebrows knit together. “You…knew?”

“It was an unspoken truth among us. We were threatened with banishment and worse if one of us let slip that Jack had been fully human all along. Of course, such secrets are useless now. Stand back.” Their body became eerily still, and the air within an inch of them seemed to simmer with black fire. They were absorbing the light around them, slowly drawing it from every inch of the room, until their core started glowing white and their body flickered at the edges. I looked to Nyx, eyes still wide.

“Have you seen them do this?” I whispered. She shook her head.

“I don’t think any of the demons have ever been willing to do it. They’re taking twice the power they can hold in their body and transferring it to Jack, bit by bit.”

I held my breath, noticing how her office now seemed exceedingly dull and lifeless. “What’s going to happen to them?”

She didn’t answer me. I furrowed my eyebrows and grabbed her shoulder.

“Nyx, what’s going to happen?”

She shook her head again, eyes wide like they’d been stretched open. “Maybe look away for a bit, Sawyer—”

I turned back to Vickson and immediately shielded my eyes; they were glowing far too bright right now, emitting a blinding light that almost felt like it was burning my skin off.

“Hey! What are you doing?! Are you—”

**“Look away, ** ** _human._****”** It sounded as if they were using the last drops of energy in their body to growl those words. There was something more than anger that was pushing them to say that, something like fear. Last-minute desperation.

Despite my frustration, I turned away from the light and let them do fuck-all with their energy, or whatever Nyx said it was; I’d forgotten already. But something worried me about the way Vickson was wheezing and muttering foreign curses, maybe even reciting an incantation under their breath. It sounded like they were about to die.

After what felt like ages but was probably about ten minutes, the blinding light subsided bit by bit until the room was illuminated only by a few candles’ dull glow.

Vickson took their hands off Jack, heaved one final sigh and collapsed, arms going limp and making an awful clacking sound on the floor like a wooden doll.

_ Maybe their body really _ is _ made of stone. _

I shifted forward tentatively on my knees.

“…Vick?”

They didn’t answer. My gaze traveled to one of their fingertips; it had started to crumble into dust, forming a small pile on the ground that led to their hand. I almost reached out to nudge them, shake them awake, do _ something. _

“Vick.”

Nothing again. My stomach dropped. Nyx brushed one hand over mine.

“They…”

She didn’t have to say much beyond that. I knew. I knew.

Something started pouring from the various cracks in their body, as well as their snuffed-out eye socket. Something akin to blood, viscous and completely black; I didn’t need auras or color to figure that out for myself. I didn’t move as it flowed across the floor. I could barely bring myself to care if it got on me. The liquid was ice cold and soaked my palms, fingertips, shins, feet.

I wanted to cry. I had too many reasons to. Somehow, that’s exactly why I didn’t.

“Well,” Nyx said, her voice an unsteady lilt, “no use getting upset over things that…that have passed.”

_ Oh, that is _ such _ an obvious fucking lie. _

“I-I’ll have to inform the Highest of this, of course. Maybe leave out the part about…”

She didn’t continue, but I could guess what she had been about to say. Jack and me having to do with Vickson’s death in any way would have set that demon off with no way of stopping him. He’d see it as a plot, or twist the truth to make it seem like one to everything else that lived here. There would be a witch hunt, banishment, Nyx might be fired for even agreeing to heal Jack…

My mind went off on about a thousand tangents, each one more ridiculous than the last until Nyx’s voice pulled me back to reality.

“I don’t think he’s going to be up for a while. He needs rest…_ungodly _ amounts of rest.”

I half-processed Nyx’s words and stared blankly at Jack’s face. It held no life, new or old. None of Vickson’s transferred power, nothing that really made him Jack. He was empty. At least, as far as I could see.

Something clicked inside of me, looking at him like this. No mask, no defenses, nothing. I found myself starting to call his lie. Well, half of it. He definitely wore the mask for anonymity. First to escape the bonfire where Jenny and the rest of Chernobog’s followers died, then to keep himself, Jack Gordon, hidden from the media. But he also did it to remain guiltless—kept it on and became something else so that he didn't have to face what he did. Because it wouldn't have been him, it would be Eyeless Jack who was killing and gorging itself on human flesh and following Chernobog's orders like they were gospel. He could disconnect himself from all that. As long as he had the mask.

Now he didn't, and I had no idea how he would continue to cope with these things.

_ Not that it matters anymore. _

Nyx patted me on the shoulder, breaking my tired spell. “Hey. I-I really think it’s going to be okay. If he means that much to you—”

“And what if he didn’t?”

The question came out a lot more coldly than I’d intended; I bit my tongue and bowed my head some more. Nyx didn’t seem to mind.

“Then I still think he’ll make it.” Silence held the room for a good few minutes. Finally, she let out a tiny sigh. “You were right. About our grudge, I mean. My sister has not seen paradise, I know that now. If Jack wasn’t even the child of…”

She almost choked on the demon’s name, then sighed again.

“He’s right to be angry. What Jenny did to him was horrible. And I’ve been defending her all this time, not just because I believed Jack was a rightful sacrifice, but because she was my sister. She looked up to me. And now she’s gone. It’s pointless holding all of that against him.”

I took a moment to process that, then nodded. “Was,” I said, so quietly I wasn’t sure if she could hear me.

“Come again?”

My arms started shaking the slightest bit. “He…_ was _ right to be angry. Was. I don’t know if he’s anything anymore. For all we know, he—”

“Sawyer, please, you need to stop talking like that, and this is coming from me. Jack is going to be fine. He’s gotten out of worse than this.”

“Has he?”

“Of course! Going about every day, eating human organs, having—uh, the Highest constantly over your shoulder…I’ll be honest, he should have gone crazy at this point. But he hasn’t. I know he’ll pull himself through this. He’s just gained incredible power, Vick _ sacrificed _ themselves for him to stay. That can’t have gone to waste.”

“But what if it—”

Nyx turned me by the shoulders and gave me a reassuring but stern look. “Sawyer. Listen to me. You are going to carry him home. In the mortal world, it would be 1:00 in the morning right now. If you receive any stares, ignore them. You will keep him well for a few days, check up on him, do as you would for any patient in a coma. If all doesn’t work out, then…” For a moment, I thought I was hallucinating when I saw tears beading up in her eyes. “…then we will have at least tried. But you have to get through the trying first.” Her gaze turned from piercing to fond in a split second, and she looked like she was fighting back a smile. “You love him. I can see that. You were scared for him, so you came to me and asked for help with his body in tow. But now your fear is paralyzing you, instead of driving you to act. You’re only seeing the worst-case scenario.”

Before I could respond, she held my face and gave me a kiss on the forehead.

“Go. There’s a chance that once you leave, you won’t be able to come back.”

I said nothing—really, what was I meant to?—and frantically gathered Jack in my arms again as Nyx instructed. He felt heavier this time by far; maybe it was Vickson’s gifted energy, maybe I had just grown weak over the past several minutes. I took a deep breath once he was comfortably in my hold, at least as comfortable as it could get, and started out the door without a goodbye. Nyx didn’t shout at me from her doorway, either, not a corny “good luck!” or anything of that nature. It was like she knew how much worse that might make me feel. Or maybe she knew that I wouldn’t be able to hear it, anyway, over the sound of my heart pounding in my ears as I dragged Jack and myself out of the demon realm.


	28. I'm Okay

I looked at myself in the mirror with something growing in my chest like fire on a stack of hay. It definitely wasn’t vanity. Something close to disgust, but then again, I was all too familiar with that. This was foreign to me in a way I couldn’t describe.

The streaks around my eyes were starting to fade, and panic rose in me.

_ Diffe hoc aspectu. _

_ Diffe hoc aspectu. _

_ Diffe hoc aspectu. _

What could only be described as Vick’s blood was still dripping from my hands. I leaned over to turn the water on with both of my palms, frowning as the sink handle got coated in dark liquid. I’d find a way to wash it off later.

_ “He’s dead,” _ something said weakly in my ear.

I shook my head and closed my eyes, letting the water run. “He’s always been,” I whispered to myself. “It’s fine.”

_ “You’ll never see him again. You’ll drive a knife through his heart, leave him in the yard to rot. Put him out of his misery. Now—” _

My eyes snapped open and I glared at the mirror, cupping my hands until they overflowed and splashing water over my face and arms. Whatever whispers had been reaching my ears died out with a hiss.

“Grow up and leave us alone, _ boss_,” I snarled at my dripping reflection. The room fell silent.

I sighed and unscrewed the bottle to my right, tipping it into my palm. The last two 4-milligram tablets fell out. I peered into the bottle with one eye closed.

I took my estrogen and reminded myself to set up an appointment for a prescription refill.

* * *

One week later I went for a walk in the park.

I got a few “hi”s on the way. Some awkward stares. One particularly bold soul stopped me in front of a biotech building they were exiting, pointed under their right eye and asked me if I was “practicing.” I laughed after a moment and told them that somebody painted the marks on as a joke, and I still hadn’t been able to get them off. Walking away, I felt a strange sense of dread in the pit of my stomach that I couldn’t shake.

_ Why?! There’s not much more that could go wrong from here. _

_ But you’re walking straight to the realm’s entrance. Something’s going to attack you, just wait. _

I clenched my teeth, gripped the hem of my sweater and the folded piece of paper in my hand. I just needed to find the path with the fake benches. Whatever illusionist, or hologram, or shapeshifter that had helped Jack trick me the first time we came here…

I followed the main forest path to that area, at least, to the best of my memory. Nobody else was here. As usual. I wondered if I was the only one who could see it, or if those illusions had been crafted specifically for me.

I looked past one cluster of trees I was sure didn’t exist and spotted what looked to be a giant, rottweiler-sized spider. Though startled, I knew better than to question it by now.

_ They really like just waltzing around this part of the park, don’t they? _

I cleared my throat and the thing jumped, turning inside out with a _ pop _ into a stout little man with glowing red eyes. I wondered if that was his aura; red. The sudden bright color was jarring to me. He stared, bristling, teeth bared and with indescribable fear in the space around his eyes. I lowered myself to a crouch and edged towards him little by little, hands raised in surrender.

“Hey. It’s fine. I’m not gonna hurt you.” I decided to try my luck, figuring that if I got incinerated for mentioning this, at least I didn’t have much more to lose in the first place. “You’re Vick’s…partner, right?”

The demon’s face fell. After a few seconds, he nodded with a whimper. It sounded like he had two voices layered on top of each other. I held out the piece of paper as the dust settled.

“Can you give this to Nyx for me? Or Lucy, or Edith, whoever’s in there that knows who I am.” I shook the paper a bit when he didn’t move, and he shifted back with a hiss. I sighed.

“It has to do with them, if you’re wondering. Vickson. Can you just...do this one little thing? It’ll be a thank you, from me to them.”

The demon glowered, black tears beading up in his eyes. He croaked after a while, “Vickson…dead. No point. Highest will…”

“He won’t find out. If he does, he won’t do anything about it. I promise—”

“Filthy human,” it spat as I got too close. I frowned and backed up, holding up my hands.

“Hey. Let’s not be mean. I just want Jack’s mask back, he still hasn’t woken up yet. And I don’t think either of us can go back to the realm.” I stood up and sighed, dropping the note at his feet. “Just…take this to anybody you know. Sorry to bother you while you’re grieving.”

As I turned away, something seemed to click in the little demon, and I heard a light fizzle behind me.

“Wait.”

Its voice was clearer now. Still distorted, but it sounded like it had collected himself. I faced it again with my best attempt at a patient expression. _ Go on. _

“Jack…Vickson…friends,” it mustered, twiddling its thumbs nervously. I nodded with furrowed eyebrows.

“Yeah. Friends.”

It gave me a little nod of its own. It seemed as if it finally understood what I wanted. It stepped back and picked my note up from the ground, fiddling with its folded corners. I doubted it even knew how to read human languages.

“Jack—Nyx, mail mask. Bring it back. We’ll help you.”

“Thanks, little guy. Uh, what’s your name?”

The demon tilted his head. “Name?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but quickly realized.

_ He doesn’t have one. He really was just a pet, something to be toured around. _

I sighed as I looked him up and down, the memory of Vickson still fresh and bittersweet in my mind. _ Well. We can’t all die saints, I suppose. _

“I’ll just call you…” I pursed my lips in thought. “Bernie. Sound good, little guy?”

_ Be grateful. I could’ve gone with something much worse, like Vick Jr. _

Bernie nodded, though I still wasn’t entirely sure if he knew what I was talking about. I smiled anyway.

“Thanks. I hope they’re nice to you, whoever you decide to give the note to.”

* * *

Doctor Kaine said he was fine with my “methods,” as long as he got the last say in what treatment was required. I bit my tongue and nodded, knowing that whatever he could do with his tools and medicine, I could probably handle in half the time.

I still had plans with Morgan on my mind today; a movie night with Sean, Darla, and Leigh, followed by a trip to the city next morning. I had less time off than I would’ve liked, but definitely more than the average nurse. So why not be thankful? _ You’d think I would've learned my lesson with that. _

“The doctor should be here in about five minutes. Now, you said something about continual bruising?” I looked back up at the young boy and his mother with a feigned wince. “That can’t feel too good. Do either of you think there might be something else causing it, or was it an isolated incident, or…?” I waved my pen around in a circle, prompting them for something—anything I could write down. I always filled out a set of forms for patients when Kaine wasn’t there to (God knows how his tardy ass became a professional), so we could get a general overview and I at least _ felt _useful. We’d gotten past all the standard questions for a checkup—preexisting health conditions, medication, finances, and so on.

“It’s only been—”

The boy, Eric, piped up as his mother began to speak. “I’m sick. I need to talk to a doctor.”

“Honey, please, don’t change your story _ now_. The very nice nurse can help—”

“S. Raffle,” Eric said, squinting at my name tag. He hopped off his chair and sat on the floor, one knee up and pointing to it.

“Look, it’s all black and blue.” His little face was serious and stony, holding more weight than a child’s face ever should. “I think you should look and see what’s wrong.”

He gave his mother a grave sideways glance, and I understood immediately. I bit at some dry skin on my lip and looked back up to her.

“Ma’am, would you mind if I spoke to your son? Alone?”

“Well, if there’s something worth saying, I think I should be allowed to hear it.”

I had no other choice than to be direct. I leaned down to Eric’s level and spoke in a gentle voice.

“What do you think? Would you prefer it if your mom left the room for a minute?”

He nodded, slowly and subtly. His mother’s face softened.

“Are you sure, sweetie?”

He looked at her and nodded again, no significant emotion present in his face. His mother pursed her lips, gave him a nod of her own, and patted him on the arm.

“Alright. Just tell me, Miss, when he’s ready,” she said, looking back up at me. I noticed a trace of anxiety in her features but didn’t say anything. I smiled.

“Of course.”

She exited the room, and without a second to waste Eric turned to me with his hands clenched into fists.

“I see a monster in my room. It’s small, but I’m scared of it. It has these weird sideways eyes, it only shows up when it thinks I’m sleeping—”

“Woah, woah, slow down.” I kneeled down to face him again with a sigh. “Eric, if you’re seeing things in your room at night, I think you should tell your mother—”

“I did. She won’t believe me. I’ve tried everything, I shooed it away, I told it to _ scram! _ You know, like those cowboys…” He drew up two finger guns and aimed them at various corners of the room. I narrowed my eyes. Maybe it was time to break the facade. I sat down in his mother’s place and crossed my legs.

“You didn’t just come here for some bruised knees, did you?”

“I got them myself. I got ‘em on purpose, I mean. Mom won’t listen to me. I saw it...” He gulped and played with his fingers. “It—I think it’s a she. She has little claws and teeth and stuff. She keeps leaning over me to make herself look big. I know she’s not really, though. And she keeps calling me ‘little Jack,’ _ I _don’t know what that means!”

I widened my eyes in understanding. “…and you said it has ‘sideways eyes’?”

“Mhm. They blink weird, like a lizard or—”

“Did you happen to see this monster’s clothes?”

I felt a twinge of guilt for interrupting him, but my curiosity had gotten the better of me. He tilted his head.

“Nah. Not really. I—I think she’s a kid, maybe. Like me. But that’s not important, I need to see a grown-up. Mom won’t listen to me,” he repeated, sounding even more scared than the first two times. “Doctors can fix anything. Help me fix the thing under my bed.”

_ So I guess he didn’t pick up on the fact that I’m _ not _ the doctor. _

_ Better thank god he’s not telling old Kaine about all this. _

“…alright, Eric,” I said slowly, leaning down in my chair with my hands folded. “I’ll need you to keep a secret for me. Can you do that?”

He nodded, his hair flopping up and down. “Yeah. I’m good at that. One time I found a piece of hair on my dad’s shirt and he told me to—”

“Okay, let’s calm down here.” _ I don’t need to be fed anymore family secrets, for Christ’s sake. _ “I think we’ve got something in common. I see monsters, too.”

That shut him up pretty well. After a moment of strained silence, he whispered, “Really?”

I nodded. “I’ve seen some pretty bad ones. They have claws and spider legs and eyes in weird places. Some of them don’t have eyes at all.” I spoke softly, like I was narrating a nature documentary. I pursed my lips as I tried to relay this information in the least alarming way possible.

“They’re territorial. Do you know what that means?”

“They don’t like you messing with their stuff.”

“That’s right. And they don’t like it when you get too close to them. Most of them, they’re harmless, as long as you leave them alone. As long as you stay on your side of the block, you know?”

I tilted my head in thought.

“They’re a little like bugs. You don’t have to be afraid if you see one. Well, unless it approaches you first, then you might have a problem, but…”

I trailed off at the frightened look on his face, remembering with embarrassment that Lucy _ had _ been the one to seek him out.

_ But they’re just a kid. They wouldn’t hurt him. They think he’s a “little Jack,” whatever that means… _

I bit the inside of my cheek and stood up. “Let’s get your mother back in here,” I said, the slightest bit of nervousness creeping into my voice. Before opening the door, I looked back to Eric and subconsciously tapped the name tag on my shirt.

“You’re gonna be fine.”

His mom walked in, the shade of her face just south of sickly pale. I folded my arms and said to her discreetly,

“We’ll have to wait until Dr. Kaine gets here to know for sure, but if you ask me, it’s not blood thinning that you need to be worried about.”

“You say that like there’s something else.”

I bit my tongue. _ There is. But… _

“Let me rephrase that. If nothing happens in another few weeks, then you shouldn’t worry, period.”

“S. Raffle, you said—”

I addressed Eric a bit more flippantly than I intended to. “Let’s just see what the doctor says, okay?”

“But the monster—”

“It’s one of the good ones, Eric. Bugs, remember?”

He stopped protesting, and I turned back to his mother with raised eyebrows. “Kids,” I said plainly. She laughed and nodded, as if to say, _ right? _

Eric’s face fell with my tiny, causal betrayal; was everything I just told him a lie? Did I think he was crazy after all, or worse—imagining?

I spared him a sideways glance and smiled. A genuine one, at least, that was what I hoped came across. He seemed to gather just as much, and nodded with all the earnestness of a soldier. _ I can keep your secret, _he said silently.

“Thank you, nurse,” his mother said with a gracious smile.

_ Huh. “Nurse.” _A whole year had passed, and hearing that still made me feel all warm and mushy inside. Instead of soaking in that feeling like I usually would have, I turned to the kid and knelt so we were face-to-face.

“And, Eric…that monster isn't going to hurt you. They need a friend. Just don’t promise them your body and soul in a ritualistic circle and you should be fine. Okay?”

Eric nodded. “Okay.”

His mother, while obviously a tad confused, didn’t let the smile leave her face.

The doctor arrived.

“Ah! Sorry I’m late, I hope Sawyer didn’t bombard you too much with her…questions,” Kaine said with a huff. He looked like he’d just returned from a grand journey over snow-dusted mountains, his coat ruffled, glasses askew over the nose. I snickered.

“Yeah, I hope I didn’t, either. Then what are these forms for?” I shook my clipboard in the air, unintentionally meeting Eric’s gaze again. He was staring in a triangle around the room, from his mother to me to the doctor and back. Dr. Kaine laughed.

“Again. Sorry. Sawyer, dear, could you keep filling those out while I check up on Eric?”

I held my breath for a moment at that word, “dear.” _ Right. He’s a middle-aged man. _

“Sure.”

I left the hospital that day hoping I’d said the right things.

_ “Doctors can fix anything,” _ the kid told me. After the shit I’d been through, maybe this one could.

* * *

I got a new message on the bus back home.

_ “OH MY GOD SAWYER LOOK WHAT I FOUND.” _

Followed by an excessive string of smile, sparkle, injection needle and heart emojis. I fought back a snicker as I tapped out a response.

_ “Yup. About five years too late, but yes, you nerd.” _

_ “Don’t bully me :( you know the last time I had a phone? 6 years ago. 6 YEARS.” _

“Okay, okay,” I muttered to myself. I typed back to him, _ “I’m very happy for you” _ and shut my phone off for the rest of the trip. I needed to clear my head a bit; simply texting somebody was enough to drain me right now.

The house was eerily quiet when I arrived there. Something didn’t sit right with me; I couldn’t even hear any breathing, or floorboards creaking from upstairs. Then again, he always knew how to shut up when I needed it least. I sighed and walked into the living room to put my things down, but ended up dropping everything because a certain someone had to _ swing _ down from the doorway’s casing and scare me half to death.

I screamed and held up my hands to shield myself before letting my arms drop and glaring at him, his upside-down face centimeters from mine.

“Jack! You dick, stop doing that! What if I was holding something sharp, or breakable?”

“Oh, come on, I’d know if you were. Hey, what’s the cast of characters like today? You get anymore old, racist ladies in your department?”

I ignored the question and gathered my messenger bag and books to gently place on a nearby chair, walking back to flick him on the nose.

_ “Ow.” _

“Who do you think you are, Spiderman? Get down from there before you break my doorframe, or the doorframe breaks you.”

He stuck his tongue out at me. “Okay, boss.”

“Regular boss or your boss?”

“Eh, who cares, both of ‘em are bloodthirsty demons.”

When I stared him down as a way of communicating _ get your feet on the floor right now or God help me, _he gave me the old puppy dog eyes, thin tar about to leak onto the newly-cleaned floorboards.

“Without one kiss?” he said dramatically, reaching for my hand before realizing he was still hanging upside-down. He crashed down with a yelp, his spine stretching back out like an accordion. I winced and knelt down to check the damage, though it seemed the only thing that had been bruised was his pride. He blew a stray piece of hair away from his face as he lay there, glaring at the ceiling. I chuckled and circled around, tilting his head up and giving him a kiss.

“There. That’s your one for today, since you asked so nicely.”

“Can I use my one for tomorrow, too?”

“We’ll see.”

I hung up my overshirt and tied my hair back. I’d let it grow out a bit over the months, and it looked surprisingly nice. Only thing that pained me was the maintenance. Otherwise, we both loved the change. I started digging through the kitchen drawers while Jack followed me, curious.

“Hey, do you know where the lighter is?” I asked.

“What?”

“The lighter. Last Friday of the month, remember?”

Jack puffed up his cheeks in realization. “Oh. Uh, hell if I know, it’s probably still upstairs.”

I screwed up my face and nodded, praying that we didn’t lose it before we had the chance to pay another of our monthly respects.

It wasn’t lost, thankfully. We walked up to the attic, where it was all still set up, and lit the candles in a circle. I adjusted the tiny bottle of Vickson’s blood I’d managed to save so it was centered, and rested my hands on the floor. Spots of dust marked the edge of the spell circle in place of sand—the only circumstances under which they were welcome in this house.

I muttered, _ “memento eorum” _ and broke the circle with pinched fingers.

“Hey.”

The room fell silent for a good moment. I sighed.

“Don’t know why I expected something back.”

“Hey, Vick, it’s us again.” Jack took the reins when it became clear I didn’t have much to say. “It’s…it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“A month.”

“Right. The usual. So, uh…hope things are going okay in the afterlife. Wherever you ended up. Maybe we’ve just been talking to thin air all this time, eh?” He nudged me in the arm in some attempt to lighten the mood. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was _ not _ working.

“Bernie’s been doing good, in case you were wondering,” I added. “Still not really sure if you care all that much, but…”

“Let’s just pretend you do.”

“Yeah.”

Jack cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh. So…oh, hey, I’ve got one—tell me when _ boss _ finally gets sent down there, huh? Make it a game. Who can spot the all-powerful demonic god _ dead _ first?” He hesitated, then interlocked his fingers like he was still waiting on a response that would never come. “I mean…I know you hated him, too, right? That’s one thing we got in common.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you were still a massive prick.”

“Sawyer.”

“Fine, fine.”

Jack sighed. “It’s okay. Y’kinda were, Vick. Gotta be honest.”

We would have decided to blow out the candles on that note, if I hadn’t placed a hand on Jack’s arm as he moved forward to do the honors.

“Wait.”

“Is everything okay?”

I didn’t answer him, but pondered my own question a bit more. It was an empty one, sure, but I needed to get it out there. Just in case they were listening, somehow.

“If you can,” I started, “I’m not trying to bother you, but…tell me what the afterlife’s like? As one last favor.” I swallowed down a sob, though where it had come from was beyond me.

“Thanks. Again.”

Jack looked to me patiently, and when I didn’t continue, snuffed out the candles one by one.

* * *

_ My heart thumped like a sad, slow drum against my ribs as I stared at Jack on the table where he’d made his home. Technically, he hadn’t “made” it himself, but I didn’t think about those things anymore. _

_ He would wake up. I just had to give it some more time… _

Time._ What was it good for anymore, besides the breaks between classes, the breath I held along with my hope as I waited for something that would never come? Time was a nuisance. I would be wasting my life, waiting after graduation, waiting through jobs, through my 100th birthday for him to regain consciousness. _

_ Maybe his boss was right. Maybe I'd be better off if… _

_ I narrowed my eyes at Jack’s motionless body and retired to my room. _

_ Nyx’s note still lay, folded, on my bedside table. I hadn’t worked up the nerve to open it yet. Jack’s mask had been enclosed, still in pieces, so I knew that little demon had at least sent my letter to the right person. This would be a distraction. A horrible, ineffective one, but a distraction nonetheless. _

_ I sucked in a breath and unfolded the note. _

“Hi, Sawyer.

“I’m sorry we haven’t been able to see each other in so long. I know it’s for the best, but you were a refreshing presence here. The Highest has barely given me any directions since…well, you know. I hope he’s feeling alright. He may not have treated Jack the best (I might be risking my position here just by writing this letter, ha!) but in the end, he is my employer.

“Your little friend, Lucy, has been dropping by quite frequently. That other demon—Bernie, I believe his name was—as well. Did you give him that name? I have a feeling you did. It suits him well. But they’ve been disturbing my work, acting like I’m their mother, or a _ babysitter _ of some sort! Apparently, Lucy’s several caretakers don’t treat them very well at all. Can you believe that? And they’re such a sweet little thing, too.

“Oh! Before I forget: enclosed you will find whatever I could gather of Jack’s mask. I suppose you must know what happened to it. Give him my condolences when he wakes up; I know how attached he was to it, though I may never understand why.

“Love, Nyx.”

_ God. Sweet as always. I let out a breathy laugh and set the letter down. _

_ Something shifted in the other room. _

_ My gaze snapped up and I jumped to my feet, blood rushing painfully to my head. Without a second to waste I ran out the door and turned a sharp corner to see Jack laying perfectly still again. I caught a glimpse of the destroyed mask on the floor as I knelt at the makeshift bed, remembering his half-conscious words from months ago with a chill: _

_ “Please. You have to make sure no one sees me. Nobody can mourn me like this.” _

Christ, Jack. We’re all already mourning you.

At least, I am.

_ “Jack,” I said frantically, my voice becoming an odd and desperate hiss. This couldn’t be it. He couldn’t have just moved, just shifted in his sleep, then gone back to being practically dead. Besides being horribly inconvenient, it would mean I’d gotten my hopes up so high for nothing. It would mean I might have to give _ up _ my hopes. _

_ And not to be dramatic, but I would rather have died than done that. _

_ He moved again. _

_ Then let out a soft groan in his sleep, like trying to wake from a nightmare. _

_ I held his face, hands shaking, tears beading in my eyes. My head throbbed from the urge to cry, my heart stopped again and again with every twitch of his eyelids. _

_ “Wake up,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady. “Please. _Wake up.”

_ He woke up. _

_ His eyelids barely opened, but I could see it—the spark of life, the tiny wave of contentment that washed over him when he caught sight of my face. I must’ve looked sick, but I couldn’t have cared less about that. _

_ “Hi, Jack,” I managed through choked sobs and laughs. He mustered a crooked smile and looked around the room. _

_ “Hey,” he murmured. His voice sounded awful. “Did…did I die?” _

_ I leaned over, took one of his hands with both of mine, and let my forehead rest on his. “No. No, you’re fine. You’re alive.” _

_ “Are you sure? I’m not in heaven right now?” He let out a tiny cough before he could continue, and I rolled my eyes despite myself. _

_ “You’re not flirting right now, are you?” _

_ “Of course not…beautiful…” _

He’s horrible at this.

_ I laughed and hugged him close anyway, hoping he wouldn’t be able to feel the tears that stained my face. He lifted a weak hand and placed it on my back, claws dulled and fingers twitching with newly received life. I felt whole again. Complete. _

_ I felt like as long as we stayed like this, nothing in the universe could tear us apart again. _

_ “Sawyer,” he said softly in my ear. I blinked back another waterfall of tears and turned my head to kiss under his jaw. _

_ “Yeah?” _

_ “Can I see you?” _

_ No being with a heart could’ve resisted that voice. I lifted myself back up to look at him, and he frowned with heavy, narrowed eyelids. _

_ “You look so tired.” He seemed to stifle a yawn as he thought. “How long has it been? A year?” _

_ “Nowhere near that. Maybe a month or so.” _

_ He reached up to touch my face, and I leaned into his hand. He sighed, content. _

_ “I must’ve done a number on you, huh.” _

_ “Don’t talk like that. I’m fine, you’re fine, you were just…” _

_ I tried my best not to start crying again, but it seemed to show a lot more than I would’ve liked. Jack shook his head and slowly, but surely, lifted himself to sit on the table with his elbows. I let out a sigh and pushed him down by the shoulders. _

_ “Come on, Jack, don’t. You could hurt yourself—” _

_ The sly bastard grabbed my forearm and pulled me into a deep kiss. Not that he was being forceful, or was exerting any more energy than he had before. It just felt richer this time, more fragile, more like we really understood one another. _

_ I cried and laughed at the same time halfway through, and we still didn’t break it off. When we did, I immediately fell back into his arms, and we stayed in a hug for a solid five minutes. _

_ “…hey,” I muttered. _

_ “Mm?” His voice was slightly muffled by my hair and sweater. _

_ “Were you scared at all? When…when it was happening?” _

_ I found myself burying my face in his shoulder and holding onto him tighter than ever before. _

_ “Because I was. A lot.” _

_ I got the feeling Jack had wanted to tease me about that, but stopped himself when he realized how hurt I actually sounded. He sighed and shifted closer to me, a drop of cold tar rolling onto the side of my neck. _

_ “Yeah. I was.” _

* * *

There was no more human disguise. No more Jack Nichols, redhead theatre major, which meant he couldn’t join my friends and I for much of anything. So we had our own little movie night the next day, right when I got back from my unholy 12-hour shift. Jack had managed to gather every blanket in the house and dumped them all on the couch, like an excited ten-year-old preparing to build a fort. Though it was nearing summer, I wasn’t about to complain.

“So, what’ll it be…?” I struggled through a yawn as Jack held up a dusty DVD. _ West Side Story. _ As my eyes wandered across the classic title, I frowned.

“That one’s a bit of a downer, isn’t it?”

He shrugged. “Eh. We can just pause it before anybody dies and we’ll be fine.”

I nodded wisely as he popped the disk into the video player and collapsed on the couch next to me. “Just like in real life…”

Jack snickered and rested his head on my shoulder.

Somewhere, maybe halfway through the first act, he muttered to me like he didn’t want any invisible person in the room to hear:

“Hey.”

“Mhm?”

“I’ve seen you at work—”

I made an odd but quiet snorting sound. “Spying on me at my job? That’s hardly polite.”

“—and you’re always so nice and cheerful with the people there. Patients, receptionists, coworkers…but you’re always so mean to me.” He lifted his head from my shoulder and gave me a playfully exaggerated pout. _ Oh, come on, now. _

“Hey. Those people at the hospital, they get all the smiles and sunshine. I save my _ heart _for you, at the end of every day.”

Jack made a face. “What a cold, icky, bitter heart you must have, then.”

I giggled and poked him in the cheekbone, much to his annoyance. “Good, then I know you won’t try and eat it.”

Tony kept at his hopeless romanticism in the background.

_ And suddenly I've found _

_ How wonderful a sound can be! _

_ Maria! _

_ Say it loud and there's music playing _

_ Say it soft and it's almost like praying… _

I only saw the world in black and white since those so-called “angels” healed me. Auras are another story, though they happened so rarely that it hardly counts. There always remained a faded, pulsing vignette around my vision—some cruel reminder that this wasn’t my real eyesight, that it was gone for good.

But just because I couldn’t see directly didn’t mean I couldn’t feel. I felt Jack’s love, the world’s impatience. I felt clients’ anxiety over a diagnosis, the relief when somebody is taken off medication or when a surgery goes well, the devastation out in the lobby when a receptionist runs someone through a particularly lengthy bill. I feel like if I suddenly could see again, for real, it would be blinding, as ironic as that sounds. So I see in black and white. Maybe a touch of blue sometimes, though I know exactly who to blame for that.

But even then, I see in black and blue, and I’m okay with it.

I’m okay.


End file.
